#but I sure did write a song that straight up evokes what it felt like to be deep in my feelings for this chick ooof | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thequibblah · 3 years

Note

⭐️ would love some commentary on that dancing scene (or really any commentary on the various parties thrown by the marauders) from the party happening next to the Potions Club party ⭐️

WELL WELL WELL

"This is...a lot of trouble to go to." "It's the Marauders. They love trouble."

i love writing party scenes (as i'm sure you all know lol) and one of the best/worst things w the marauders parties is striking a balance between their, uh, audacious plans, and what's realistically possible at hogwarts without getting caught. (aka literally why i made up the dodgy lodgings). i went back and forth so long on whether or not they could plausibly have managed that with slughorn's dinner next door, but then was like ah whatever the party has to happen for plot reasons so.... plot ex machina??

anyway, i love using parties to establish character — what a brilliant stage of teenage performance they provide. i love contrasting the hogwarts parties to, say, evan wronecki's — for instance, how lily and co. are more at ease in the former, as seventh years, with their classmates hosting, than they were at evan's nye bash

i also love that it gives me space to establish who is and isn't popular, so to speak, but also who acts or doesn't act the way we presume popular kids will act

doe, for instance, who is by all accounts a level-headed and non-wild person, has a more exciting time on net at marauders' parties than mary (drinking game, kissing remus), though she's not a big drinker and isn't really into parties. but she's comfortable in her own little social circle at a bigger event (like with michael at evan's) and so isn't bothered at all by the marauders' do, because...

She did, in fact, trust the Marauders. Her general belief in the inherent goodness of people notwithstanding, she didn't think they would do anything to harm their friends. Intentionally.

this bit always makes me laugh

as with many things, i feel very saddened that i didn't get to make more out of the fools' olympics (although one could argue that The Dance was a pro) — as in, i wish i'd been able to squeeze more of it into the story itself. i could probably come up with a list of tasks and who completed them LOL

WAIT OH MY GOD I TOTALLY FORGOT ABOUT THIS it just might be my favourite part of this chapter

"How did you do that?" Gillian said, glancing between the other two girls. "Just — drink it without a second thought?" "Practice," said Mary. "Scottish — constitution," David said hoarsely. "I once drank some of Mrs. Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mass Remover," said Priya.

priya is all i aspire to be

can i say, too, it's hilarious to me how many people worried niamh would be a james love interest? i feel like you will not rest easy on that count until he and lily are together... but that is not where the danger lies babes

circling back to popularity/unpopularity, another fun outlier. gillian is first established, in 33, as someone with friends (we see her around sara and in the seventh-year ravenclaws' compartment) but she's not exactly at ease at the party either — recall how she hesitates when mary invites her. only later, in 38, do we realise that our opinion of her has been skewed by the narration (from doe, who naturally assumes any friendly, nice person must have a wealth of friends and be floating through life; and mary, who naturally assumes anyone she isn't bored by must have the social skills of a medieval noblewoman at court), and she's a bit of a pariah in her own house

david, on the other hand, is just flat-out not in his element. and not because of the drinking or the, er, general revelry (see: summer with mary!), even though he doesn't partake much in either. unlike doe, the company breaks rather than makes his enjoyment — he's acutely aware, the whole time, that his cooler, more liked brother is around:

"Not your scene?" "What gave it away?" said David drily. As one they looked at Chris...

...and mary has intuited as much too, even though she has a lot more in common, superficially speaking, with chris than david

so, i think while i was writing this chapter i made a post complaining about how, as much as i love juggling the constraints of historical fiction, i hate that music from the 70s limits me in terms of tracklists. i.e., when i say a certain record is playing i can't just hit shuffle and go somewhere entirely different to set the mood shortly thereafter

this problem was because i wanted, NAY, NEEDED, to have "martha my dear" playing in the aftermath of that mary and david interaction. of course, time passes in that section break, but since "come and get it," which they talk about it, is a sirius song (though it could be a mary song), and i feel too strongly about needle drops to let that conversation go without a soundtrack. germaine even correctly guesses the white album is on because of mary:

Apparently Mary got fonder of the White Album the drunker she was.

...and of course the song itself makes me squeal with how very mary it is — not that it is something she would listen to, necessarily, or identify with (it would hold up too close of a mirror, ha), but it sounds like it could've been written about her ("hold your head up, you silly girl/look what you've done/when you find yourself in the thick of it/help yourself to a bit of what is all around you," which really sums up the entirety of her portree holiday, lol)

BUT! if "martha my dear" is to play here, then i have some Serious Chronology Concerns. i knew germeline had to kiss and jily had to dance and ideally in that order. but what would those scenes be soundtracked by!!!! i was limited to side two of the white album!!!

so i did the healthy thing and panic-listened to the white album. "don't pass me by" was, right away, an easy lock for the dance, because it's danceable, but not in a way that would've scared lily off. lyrically, it feels GREAT for jily in this moment, on the cusp of lily's realisation ("waiting for your knock, dear [...] i don't hear it, does it mean you don't love me anymore?" vs OF COURSE "don't pass me by [...] 'cause you know darling, i love only you"). i feel about "don't pass me by" the same way as NYT critic nik cohn: it's "straight ahead and clumsy and greatly enjoyable, backed by a beautiful hurdy-gurdy organ," which, if that isn't everything i wanted to evoke with the dance itself!!!!!!

ok we'll circle back to this, but onward with the musical discussion

thus i had four songs to choose from, between "martha my dear" and "don't pass me by," for the germeline scene — "piggies," "blackbird," "i'm so tired," and "rocky raccoon." the latter is on my sirius playlist, so auto-no; "piggies" is, well, like that, so also a no. "blackbird" is a certified germaine classic that was written personally by paul mccartney for germaine, but it seemed too introspective for the moment. i don't think i'd ever listened to "i'm so tired" before this panicked searching, and honestly it must be some wild luck that it is. just SO RIGHT!!!! it's so lethargic and tortured and angsty and, well, a bit of a stoner song, so.... it's THERE

AND NOW for the dance! true story, i initially wanted jily to have a real conversation, after the party. i had the dance in there and then james would catch up with lily after to be like, "hey i was wrong actually, you should write to petunia." but then i realised i wanted james and sirius to have a conversation about the bike/money, and i wanted it to strike a different chord, tonally, than the jily conversation. then i realised it would be too much to have both and i'd need to condense that conversation into the dance. VERY nearly cut the dance in favour of the conversation but wow i am glad i didn't

The tinkling piano signalled the start of the next song; she extended a hand, very matter-of-factly, to James, "Come on, this is a good one."

not pictured: james having a fucking breakdown

obviously, i could have gone the route of a genuine dramatic dance, but as previously mentioned lily would have chickened out, and i wanted to have this be an experience she could look back on and pine about because of how fun it was and james totally doesn't like her back

Loath as she was to admit it, this most indelicate of waltzes suited the plodding chords of "Don't Pass Me By." And worst of all, once they had stopped stepping on each other's feet James started to sing, in the poorest possible Ringo imitation she had ever heard in her life.

by the way, attentive readers of blink three times will recall:

He finally starts to lead — thank goodness, because she’s not the one who was forced into formal dance lessons as a child...

so in 36, this is james being drunk, but it is also james being silly on purpose because not only is he JAMES and so he must take the mick, he also knows it will put lily at ease

okay, and this bit:

"Don't pass me by, don't make me cry, don't make me blue," they both shouted rather than sang, "'Cause you know darling—" Lily broke off, laughing, dimly aware that she had done so to avoid saying I love only you while staring right at him.

from the FIRST MOMENT i picked out "don't pass me by," i knew i knew I KNEW that lily would have thoughts about this line. at this point in the story if someone questioned her about it she would probably have a full-scale breakdown about her male friends vs her female friends ("but no... i suppose i wouldn't mind saying it to remus.... but that's different!" how is it different, lily? "it's different!")

anyway, the bottom line is she could NOT abide saying it. i enjoyed writing that because 1. same girl and 2. it felt like a nice bit of close foreshadowing for her realisation, which i knew was coming soon. so that's a really circular way of saying, i knew what it meant but ideally to readers it was just oh this will mean something far-off in the future!!! which is usually true for me but SURPRISE babey it was just two chapters away!!!

note btw that lily "falls for james"

Lily spun faster than she’d intended to. The room was a brief, kaleidoscope blur. Then there was James. “Jesus, Evans,” he said, steadying her as the next track began.

>:)

and after i thought tracklists would fuck me up, i turned them into my WEAPON!!

Huffing, she stepped out of his arms. (There were some songs you could sing along to with your mates, and “Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?” was not one of them.)

(so, you know, keep in mind that for the rest of this conversation, paul is in the background howling "no one will be watching us/why don't we do it in the road?")

also:

"...I’m not drinking tonight, but I’d better get the royal treatment after we win on Saturday."

and then what happened <3

wait jesus oh my god i really went hard on this huh

She only saw its result: the easy grin had given way to an expression so serious it was almost sweet.

LILY??????

and hey, remember when:

...because in chapter 26:

Dex’s measured opinions about the wizarding world seemed more the result of upbringing and inexperience than ill will, but Lily had not expected a radical change of heart.

...but then in 36:

He was right, damn it. And a part of her had known all along, had sought him out expressly so that he would say the opposite thing to her. He’d gone and proven her wrong. She broke the staring match first [...] “What brought on the change of heart?” “It’s a long story, and I expect it’ll have an unsatisfying end if I told it to you.” Lily scoffed, but James had on that maddening grin that meant he would not budge. “Oh, all right.” Softer, she added, “Thank you.” He began to back away, towards the bar. “It’s give and take, Evans.”

in conclusion, i never forget, besties

#i literally had to retype this entire fucking response #i hate tumblr #but anyway #be warned i talk about the beatles :/// in here #ask me #anon #director's cuts #36

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love-dreams · 4 years

Text

thinkin’ about you

woozi/reader | predebut!au, idol!au, boyfriend!au | fluff, angst

synopsis: just another day in the studio for jihoon. except he now has the inspiration to create.

content: light cursing (use of the word “damn”), pre-debut! woozi/early debut!woozi, a weird time transition, very bittersweet memories, crying scenes, fluffy ending

wc: 2.6k

inspo: woozi in the recording studio, 《hello》by seventeen, 《247》by seventeen, 《empty》Paul Kim [here’s my playlist link]

It was evening. Or morning. Jihoon didn’t really know at this point after working consecutive days and nights at the studio without leaving.

Glancing sideways at his luminescent phone screen, Jihoon saw multiple text messages and a few missed phone calls. Reaching for it, he quickly dialed your number, waiting for the sound of your voice after the ringtone.

“Jihoon?”

He sighed in relief, carding his fingers through his messy locks. “Hey baby. I’m sorry for missing your calls. My phone was on silent.”

You don’t respond, instead Jihoon hears the sound of car horn in the background and the bustle of footsteps. “Baby? Where are you right now?”

Jihoon could hear your light heavy breathing and the phone being tossed around in the air before you quickly responded, “I’m on my way to the studio right now with food. I’ll call you back!”

“Wait, Y/N, stay safe-”

Click.

Jihoon let out a breath as he leaned back into his chair, exhaustion, followed by hunger, creeping into his body. Cracking his knuckles, he turned his attention back to the music program he was using to work on a new track, long fingers flying over the keyboard.

Today was a long day. Long and exhausting. No matter what he did today, Jihoon just couldn’t seem to get the right sound or feel that he was imagining in his head. Known for being a notorious workaholic, Jihoon often worked days on end in the studio, pumping out new tracks and mixtapes, like “a music factory,” you jokingly once called him.

Jihoon placed his headphones snug over his ears to try and focus, music flowing freely into his eardrums.

Just when he was about to get into his zone before he felt a hand on his shoulder, immediately jerking him back to reality. Jihoon looked up to see your flushed face holding up the slightly transparent, flimsy plastic bag. You were panting, heavy breaths coming from your chest.

“I got you takeout, sorry it took so long. There was traffic so I tried to run here on foot which was definitely not a good idea now that I think about it.”

Jihoon’s lips curled upward at your rambling, glad at the distraction you provided for him instead of work. He took the bag from you and set it down on the ground, peeking inside to see what you had brought him. Grabbing the multiple containers of takeout, he moved away from the desk to another table in the studio.

You turned, flopping onto the studio’s couch to take a cursory, quick look at your boyfriend.

At first glance, the first thing you noticed was that Jihoon’s hair was all over the place. Even under his cap, you could see the stray strands of hair floating around his face. His face was sullen, a sign that he hadn’t been eating very well, with slight dark circles under his eyes.

Feeling the weight of your stare, Jihoon turned around to face you, mumbling through a mouthful, “Thanks for the food.”

You grinned for a second before huffing, arms crossed exasperatedly, “Yeah, ‘cause you weren’t going to get some yourself now were you?”

Jihoon snorted, ignoring your comment and went back to eating. After a couple minutes, Jihoon had already scarfed down one container of take out and was back at trying to fine-tune his music track.

Stepping closer to Jihoon, you placed your hands on his shoulders, kneading softly while he ate. Resting your chin by his head, you lowly murmured, “What’s going on? You seem...stuck.”

Jihoon swallowed thickly, fingers pausing slightly on the keyboard. He leaned back into the mesh of his chair, trying to feel more of the magic from your fingers.

“I don’t know..I just can’t seem to find any inspiration. Nothing sounds right.”

You hummed, fingers digging slightly deeper, eliciting a soft groan from Jihoon. “Maybe you just need a break, Jihoon. Get some fresh air. You’ve been working nonstop in this studio. No wonder you don’t have any inspiration.”

Jihoon threw his head back and sighed, eyes shut as he ran his fingers through his hair again. “I can’t, Y/N...I really have to pull this for the members, for our future, y’know.”

You smiled bittersweetly, fingers halting their movements causing Jihoon opened his eyes to stare at your own.

“Y/N? Are you okay..”

Then, you pulled away from him, standing awkwardly by yourself away from the desk. “I know, Jihoon. I’ll do my best to support you too. And when you succeed, I promise I’ll be your biggest fan. I’ll always be here for you, even when I’m not. I promise that I love you.”

Jihoon smiled, slightly flustered at your sudden love confession, and stood up as well, chair squeaking at the absence of his weight. He wrapped his arms around you, warmth against warmth, trying to mark in the memory of your frame against his body.

“I know, and I love you too.”

“I can’t do this anymore.”

Jihoon looked up from his program, eyes widening at your sudden statement. “Y/N? What do you mean?”

You couldn’t look up at him, eyes staring straight down at the ground. “It means that I’m breaking up with you. I’m sorry, Jihoon.”

Jihoon couldn’t breathe for a second out of shock; his heart was trapped in his throat and he couldn’t bring himself to say something to you. Say something! his brain screamed at him, Make her stay. Just don’t let her go.

He swallowed and refused to reply.

“Are you not going to say anything?”

Jihoon stared at the empty take-out package in the studio trash can, just the other day you had said that you would always be there supporting him. “What more is there to say,” he mumbled.

You nodded shallowly, whispering out: “Goodbye, Jihoon,” then turned on your heel and left him alone in the quiet, dark studio.

Jihoon had never written so much music in his life. After you exited out the studio that day, Jihoon cried. Cried in the first time in years. He wrote song after song after song until every last memory he had with you was in music.

Y/N..you’re such a liar, Jihoon thought, you said you’d be there for me. Dammit, you said you love me.

Every raw emotion he had within him was pouring out of his heart into music. Jihoon couldn’t leave the studio because the inspiration was endless. Another trace of you in the dorms would have Jihoon back in the studio writing. No matter where he looked, where he went, Jihoon was reminded of you.

Sometimes music wasn’t enough. Sometimes Jihoon just wanted to feel the warmth and security of your arms around him. Sometimes he just wanted to see your face again.

Even when life got turbulent, you were there for him.

And now you weren’t.

“You’re writing even more amazing songs, Woozi, where’d you get the sudden burst of inspiration?” commented Bumzu one day.

Jihoon just stared at his teacher, surprise written all over his face. Inspiration... he thought. Bittersweetly, Jihoon remembered what you had told him that day:

“No wonder you have no inspiration.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon muttered brusquely, not bothering to give a coherent response to Bumzu’s question. After staring off at the computer screen, Jihoon finally stood up. “I’m going out,” he called before pulling his cap down lower to cover his face and walking out of the Pledis Entertainment building.

Stepping out into the sunlight, Jihoon stared at the empty street, stray cars littering the side of the road. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Jihoon walked a few steps and let out a long, held-in breath breathing in the cool, fresh air contrasting the studio’s. He sighed and squinted at the bright sunlight, the concrete sidewalk emulating a microwave.

Jihoon decided to go for a walk by the Han River. He hadn’t visited there since the two of you broke up, it was too painful for him to go there.

Looking at the river, Jihoon realized that nothing had changed. The river was still as beautiful as the day he met you here and there were still people enjoying its beauty.

Only Jihoon had changed.

Seeing the natural beauty of the river evoked another powerful emotion.

Guilt.

Jihoon guilted himself over and over again after you had left, wondering what he had done wrong. He always wanted to ask you, his own pride trapping him in the confines of the studio. Even in Jihoon’s turbulent life, you had been the stable thing that brought him back to reality every single damn time. The two of you were resilient against the tides of life.

And now you were gone and Jihoon didn’t even have the guts to ask why.

While strolling beside the river, he found a lonely bench on the side of the trail. Sitting on the hardwood bench, Jihoon sighed, maybe this walk wasn’t that good of an idea. Now he was cold, lonely, and miserable.

Drifting back into his own thoughts, Jihoon wondered what you were doing in the moment. Were you also thinking about him? He remembered that you would derive great pleasure in taking walks. Were you happy?

“Jihoon?”

Jihoon shot up at the sound of your voice, eyes searching frantically for your face.

“Hello..?” you waved your fingers in front of his face.

Startled, Jihoon stumbled backward toward the bench, clumsily falling down onto the hardwood. It was you.

You were bundled up in a coat and a scarf around your neck, cheeks a soft pink. Breathing out a white, puff of air, you gingerly greeted him once more, “You were just sitting by yourself so I wanted to say hello. We haven’t seen each other in awhile, how are you doing?”

Jihoon fumbled for an answer, his mouth unable to form coherent words. “I-I..I’m doing fine, I guess. And you?”

You smiled that bittersweet smile again, the same one in that studio that day. Turning your head sideways to look at the glimmering river, you drifted off, “I’m not really sure these days.”

Jihoon followed your gaze to the river. Before he could respond, you muttered something under your breath.

He leaned forward, “What’d you say?”

You took a deep breath in. “I said you seem to be doing fine these days. I saw SEVENTEEN’s comeback..you’ve really improved, huh? I’m proud-”

“I still love you,” Jihoon blurted out.

You stopped your ramble, head still turned away from Jihoon as you averted your gaze.

Your heart fell at his words whereas it felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of Jihoon after he had blurted out. He felt as if he could finally breathe properly after all these months without you.

Softly, Jihoon whispered out, “Y/N..Please look at me? If you’ve moved on, please just tell me. Tell me why you left me. Please..” His voice broke at the end.

All these months of pent up emotion, silent tears, and lonely nights without you. Jihoon finally wracked up the courage to ask you for closure.

Your heart just felt so heavy to hold by yourself, chest aching in heartbreak. You succumbed to your own emotions; hot, heavy tears were rolling down your cheeks, falling, one by one, onto the ground. Raising your head, you could slightly make out Jihoon’s blurry figure.

“I’m..so sorry, Jihoon.” Without a warning, you broke down, hiccups wracking your figure. You covered your eyes with one of your hands, trying to rub away the waterfall of emotions pouring out of you. It was like a dam had broken, months of sleepless nights and guilty thoughts eating away at you and you had finally broken.

Jihoon was surprised, so surprised he just stood there for a few moments in shock. You never cried. In the years that Jihoon had known you, you were always the strong one, there for him when trainee life was too difficult. It was you who had held him on the nights he couldn’t sleep. It was you who had brought him food when he didn’t take care of yourself.

Jihoon lurched forward to hold you, arms wrapping around your shaking body. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered into your hair, one arm secured around your waist. “I’m here, Y/N. Breathe, breathe.”

You leaned in closer to Jihoon, wet tears soaking the front of his shirt. Regardless, Jihoon didn’t let you go, arms securely fastened around you as you gripped onto him, crying endlessly until the tears wouldn’t come out.

When you were finally able to even out your breathing, you loosened your grip, shaky breaths coming out.

Jihoon, sensing you had calmed down, asked the question that had been plaguing his mind the entire time. “Why did you leave me?”

You shook your head and buried your head back into Jihoon, no words coming out of your mouth except sharp intakes of breath.

Jihoon pushed, “Why? Did I do something wrong? Did you stop loving me? I loved you so damn much, Y/N, I would’ve done anything-”

You pushed away from him, “I did it for you!” you bursted, panting slightly after your outburst. You sniffled a little afterward, fingers still trying to rub at your red eyes.

Jihoon was in complete, utter shock. He opened his mouth, then closed it, unable to form words with his stricken lips.

“Me?” he finally sputtered, incredulously. Then, a rush of anger came over him, “Don’t blame this on me, you’re the one who-”

“I wanted you to have the future you dreamt of!”

He swallowed his retort, the rush of new information too much for him to handle at the moment.

The distance between the two of you felt like a brick wall, separating and full of tension. You sniffled, loose tears escaping once again. “I..I didn’t want to be a distraction for you..I didn’t want to be a burden.”

You sucked in a breath, trying to keep tears from flooding out of you again, but instead of tears, all the memories came flooding back to you. Every single “I love you” was a mountain of rocks, pressuring you to tell Jihoon the truth. Your lips quivered, trying to figure out a way to phrase your mistake.

Taking a sharp intake of breath, you tipped your chin upward to make eye contact with Jihoon. He was also crying, eyes turning pink as he quickly tried to rub tears out of sight. His cheeks and nose were a blush scarlet, eyelids swollen.

“You were..always so passionate about music. About debuting and being an idol, and I just thought, that maybe if I left..you would be better off.”

“How could you say that?” Jihoon spat out, tears openly rolling down his face. He swallowed, hiccuping slightly. “I loved you, I was willing to make sacrifices..if it just meant that we could be together. Was our relationship not enough for you to stay? Was I not enough for you?”

You shook your head fervently, leaning forward into Jihoon. “I still love you,” you whimpered into the fabric of his jacket. “I never stopped, never. I wanted the best of you, the company said-”

“I don’t care what the company says. I need you with me,” Jihoon choked, a lump sitting in his throat. “These past few months...they’ve been horrible. I can’t focus without you. You’re my inspiration, Y/N. I’m always thinking about you when I’m songwriting.”

When you stayed silent, Jihoon continued, “Please come back, Y/N. You said you still love me, is that true? Please, I’m begging you, come back to me.”

You nodded into him, quiet sobs dying down as guilt finally rose off your shoulders.

“I’m here, Jihoon. I’m here and I won’t leave ever again.”

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petekaos · 4 years

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What did you think about the last episode!!

hi hi! so uhhh... this is going to get long and i’ve combined like 10 other asks i want to address, so your ask may be answered here! if you want Rahul’s Take On The 2gether Finale, then brace yourself.

...I didn't really like the last episode, I feel like it could've been a lot better/more emotional

I dunno if it's because I didn't like the last 2 episodes but even though the show literally finished I'm not emotional? The last episode I felt actually really happy watching was ep 9 but now I'm just 'ok, that show finished.' I'm sad bc I thought I would have a stronger reaction to the ending and them getting back together but I'm just meh :/

Really don't want to sound like those annoying people but damn really no kiss scene

I liked the ending, it was okay I guess but gmmtv better prepare for a shitstorm bc so many people didn't lololol

Honestly the best and well written episodes were ones where they still weren't a couple, like 8 and 9 were amazing

Although the finale was good, I feel llke in the future when I want to rewatch my favorite moments from this series, I will go for the first 10 or so episodes more often than not. It kinda feels like 2gether peaked around episodes 7-10, which is perfectly fine!! It was all in all a great series that did what it wanted to do and I’ll always cherish it but, I probably won’t rewatch much of the last two episodes

They made pam even worse!! Before she had her talk with tine anyway!!

My thoughts on the finale: could've been a lot better, could've been a lot worse

2Gether really felt like a giant inflatable castle that was carefully blown up for the past 12 weeks only to let it rapidly and poorly deflate in the end

The ending was fine and was expected but for me it's underwhelming in the sense that the past episodes, especially 4, 8 and 9 were really written in comparison so the finale is kinda meh bc I knew there was gonna be a happy ending. But still the YouTube comments and what some people on tumblr are saying is ridiculous, I don't want to even think about Twitter but imo I don't think any of gmmtvs other shows can top dbks ending like that ending was perfect,

i honestly love that 2gether focused so much on the story and the emotion and became so successful without all the usual fan service. i hope the whole industry takes something away from that! but i still felt like the finale was a little emotionally stunted when it came to tine/sarawat. i just wanted a big YES, I CHOOSE YOU moment, and tine's reappearance and the bracelet scene just didn't do it for me. you know what would have, though? a kiss. or a hug, or holding hands, or something sweet

okay, my friends! here is my opinion on the 2gether finale first, and then i’m gonna address what i personally hold of the more negative response the fandom has shown. i generally thought the finale had... a solid ending. i went into it with absolutely no expectations apart from sarawat’s song and a happy ending, because i knew it would be messy and not as good as ep 4 or 9 etc, considering the sheer amount of open storylines that were left to be resolved in one episode. i knew it would polarise the fandom--but i personally thought the ending was fine! a bit cliche, a bit rushed, but it was okay and it was a good enough ending for me to put 2gether behind me, the first season at least. the bracelet scenes and shots were amazing, the song was incredible (although i wish they would have had sarawat sing a bit more), the conversation pam and tine had was solid as well! there were a lot of things i liked about the finale and bright and win killed their solo acting as always. however, there are some things i wanna get into more detail about that i feel could have been done better, not only as a finale but as a show itself.

time allocated for the storylines. or: plotlines in general. this has been my bone to pick ever since episode 10. not gonna lie, this wasn’t good, especially from ep 10 onwards. there were so many storylines and plotlines that were dragged out further than necessary, and so many plotlines that should have started earlier. best example for this is mil and phukong, the mil redemption storyline should have started in ep 10 and should have had him be sincere for once, and the mil/phukong storyline should have actually made sense from the beginning and started in ep 11 at the latest. the mantype storyline should have also started a bit earlier than that and given us an explanation as to why type was crying at the retreat. however, mantype did pull it off!

writing! this ties in with the first point. the writing felt a bit inconsistent in the last two episodes and it’s a pity, really, that this is one of the downfalls :/ all the actors in this series, from the mains (bright, win, mike, toptap, frank, drake) to the side characters (gunsmile, love, gigie, film, etc.) are such good actors and it’s unfortunate that the last three episodes were a bit :// in terms of writing and plotlines. they all did the best they could with what was written and that... yeah.

conflict. this has to do with the first two points. the finale felt rushed. that’s something that i don’t think anyone really can argue? and i expected that, so i wasn’t too disappointed by it or anything. obviously it would have felt rushed considering the fact that they had to wrap up 3 or 4 episodes’ worth of storylines in one episode, which was a blunder on the writers’ part. the conflict fell flat, then. if they had had pam come in earlier and had tine and sarawat spend more time away from each other, we would have gotten an explosive reaction. i really do think that after they got together for real, the writers struggled to find conflict to keep the story going, jumping from tine’s insecurities to mil to pam for no reason whatever. i think it would have been much better done if we had mil as an antagonist wrapped up and on the road to redemption in ep 10 and had pam come in there, with tine’s insecurities as a b plot. i feel that would have been a bit more gripping. but, hey, guess that’s just me!

order of filming. this has to do with people saying that brightwin’s chemistry was off in the finale. i don’t think it was off, per se, but it was definitely lacking when we compare it to their chemistry in ep 4 or 9 or 10, y’know? that’s because i believe the finale was filmed earlier, when bright and win were still getting to know each other and figuring out how well they could improv. and they can improv, from what we’ve seen! so there really is nothing i can say apart from the fact that it’s a bit disappointing that they decided to film such a pivotal scene at the beginning. if it had been filmed in the end, it would have definitely been better!

flashbacks. the finale needed all the time it was gonna get, and i am disappointed by the amount of flashbacks they used, honestly. i would have cut down on the number of sarawatine flashbacks and used them sparingly when they reunited, because that just... makes sense and evokes emotion in the viewer, you know? the only flashbacks that served well were type’s view of everything and phukong and mil, because they were new. it just... felt a bit inauthentic.

pam. or: the girls in general. there is nothing i can do here but SCREAM. pam should have come in way earlier and replaced mil as the centre point of conflict for ep 11 and 12 to have been as good as the rest of the show, or ep 4 and 9 at least. her character fell so flat and the conflict she brought with her fell so flat as well, honestly. the girls should have been done better--more of earn and sarawat! more of pear! they could have tied into the plot effortlessly!

mil and phukong x mil. yeah this is a... whole ass bulletpoint, unfortunately. call me a clown all you want for expecting him to have at least a half assed redemption arc in the finale but goddamn was that... not good. really bitter over the fact phukong was straight up okay with being a “replacement” for tine even though... that doesn’t even make sense. i just... yeah, this wasn’t good. i feel super bad for frank and drake because they deserve a well written show or at the very least a well written storyline for all of their chemistry and work they put in, considering the fact that they are so so young. i could go on about a good mil arc for ages but i just... yeah i’m writing a fic, so y’all will see.

the reunion. this stems from the flat conflict and the rushed-ness of it all, but yeah. it wasn’t particularly hard-hitting, but i still enjoyed it because it’s sarawat and tine. this has to do with when they filmed as well, and just... because the angst didn’t start early enough for it to hit home. and i really do wish we’d had a scene after that with the both of them, alone. a lot of their things happen with a lot of people around them... and nah.

one year later. bro. bro. bro. the music club thing was cute! but i would have just... loved to see them alone, y’know? a scene of them being alone and intimate, just sitting next to each other on the couch or at a football game or sarawat continuing bringing the cheerleaders snacks, even a year later. them going to another concert. anything where they were just... alone. i wanted to see them together! we got that with mantype and we even got that fucking... scene on the roof where mil and phukong were just fuckin around? yeah? i would have loved to see that with sarawat and tine so much. (also btw pretty sure the rooftop scenes with mil and phukong is also where drake and frank took this photo and it made me so happy dhsndh like... the shot where mil took his hand off phukong’s eyes? i called it immediately and my partner was like ???)

intimacy. chemistry. the biggest thing everyone is talking about. now comes the part that y’all all wanted to know if you’ve been reading this far lmfao, my take on the fact that was no kiss in the finale! and my take is... i expected there to be no kiss in the finale somewhere deep within, and honestly i’m fine with not having a kiss. my only problems with all of this are first of all, that we didn’t get a proper kiss in the entire series and had sarawat kissing tine one-sidedly. secondly, i would have loved verbal intimacy as well! an i love you, or y’know, some hand holding, anything! this is also due to the fact that i believe the series was filmed relatively early on. i just wish... again, that they would have been alone one year later and we could have just seen them being domestic, as we have already seen them!

so those are some of my thoughts on the finale. considering the fandom’s response... i can see why people are upset or disappointed but i don’t think it’s, like, that justified to throw the whole show away as well. yeah, the ending wasn’t perfect, but if you’ve enjoyed the show as a whole... maybe it’s okay, y’know? like, personally, i don’t think i’m ever going to rewatch the finale. but i do love the earlier episodes and i am gonna watch them back at some point, probably! it’s all well and good and valid to criticise the lack of intimacy and kissing in the finale i guess, but if you’re a straight girl then maybe... watch your words. 2gether has portrayed a wonderful love story between two men and to see straight people throw it away as “bromance” or say it’s the “straightest bl of all time” or whatever because of the lack of kisses is kind of hurtful. i am completely open to discussing this with lgbt people, mlm specifically, and you can come talk to me about your thoughts if you’re a straight woman as well. all i’m asking for is that you maybe show a little bit of empathy and respect, y’know? i also do think 2gether peaked around episode 9/10 and i’m fine with that! it gave me so much more than characters and relationships--it gave me the fandom and everyone here and words cannot express how grateful i am for all of you. maybe the last few episodes were poorly written and the finale wasn’t everything y’all hoped for... but i did and do love this show. i cannot wait to see where brightwin go next.

#tried to put this under a cut but it gave up on me lmfaooo #also yeah dbk finale was perfect nothing can compare dsmdhs #2gether the series #2gether finale #for my own tagging purposes #ref #rahul answers

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carlyfrombleachers · 3 years

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EMOTION, because a CRJ blog needs to talk about EMOTION.

Some things in life are inevitable. Life, death, consumption of media, crying, interacting with others, and many other things, they are simply inevitabilities. Another inevitability is a Carly Rae Jepsen blog talking about EMOTION. It is something every blog-runner is eventually faced with, because of how impactful this record is for everyone who has listened to it. We will all write our EMOTION thinkpieces someday.

This post will only talk about the standard 12 tracks, Run Away With Me to When I Needed You. I will write about the Deluxe tracks (Black Heart, IDJCHTD, Favorite Colour, NGTHY, Love Again) some other time. Okay? Okay.

Also, I just realized my last two posts had the word “brilliance” on their titles. I do not know why that happened, maybe I’m a fan of the word, maybe they’re both brilliant! I don’t know. But the word “brilliance” is being banned from my titles from now on.

With that being said, let’s begin.

The First Three Tracks

I have talked about how important the first three tracks of an album are in my previous post, about Gone Now, but basically, the first three tracks are how they hook you, how they pull you in, how they make you stream it over and over. And EMOTION’s appetizers of Run Away With Me, EMOTION and I Really Like You are quite the solid ones. Run Away With Me wins every single “which is the best CRJ song” poll, so I really don’t want to talk about it, because I think everyone recognizes this is a good track. Personally, I think it is okay. Please don’t crucify me over this??? Thanks.

EMOTION is also a great track which I feel embodies what EMOTION (the album) is about. Which is why it shares a title with EMOTION (the album again). And this is what EMOTION (the album) is about. Emotion. I know, Queen of Subtlety, everyone please clap.

In all seriousness, EMOTION (the album!!!) is about love and the emotions that drive us. The love part is introduced with Run Away With Me, and the emotions, with EMOTION (the track). Run Away With Me is about unconditional love, about wanting to run away taking only the person you love the most. About forbidden love. About running away from all expectations and pursuing only love. EMOTION (the track again) is about evoking emotions in others, in those who you loved or still love, about wanting them to experience all emotions you two experienced together because you feel wronged by them.

And then we get to I Really Like You. I don’t like I Really Like You. You could say I Really Don’t Like It. And the fact it was the lead single? That’s just a weird choice. Sure, it’s catchy, and Tom Hanks is in the music video, but it’s just… not impactful enough? It’s very lovey-dovey, but that’s all it is. Love. Really Liking someone. There are better songs out there. But well, the first two tracks are so good, I think it hardly matters.

The Second Three Tracks..????

The middle of an album is weird. This is usually where themes are explored and pushed far. Lorde’s Melodrama features The Louvre, single Liability and Hard Feelings, where the themes of love shine through after their introduction through Green Light and Sober. Bleachers’ Gone Now features lead single Don’t Take The Money, along with Everybody Lost Somebody and All My Heroes. EMOTION’s tracks 4 through 6 are Gimmie Love, All That and Boy Problems.

These are weird tracks. The theme of love is very loosely present in all these songs, and the 80’s vibes shine very strongly here (especially in All That), but there is not much connecting all of them. Gimmie Love is about doing it with an ex, who you wish still loved you, All That is about being and doing everything for someone, and always being there for them, and then you have Boy Problems, which is, well, about how Boys Suck. The storyline of the record is confusing at best, much like Dua Lipa’s Future Nostalgia. Future Nostalgia, much like EMOTION, is an album about those cool disco vibes and there is not really a present, recurring theme shared between most of its tracks. The progression on EMOTION is basically, “I love you, let’s run away”, then “I hope you suffer, because I kind of want you back”, followed by “Hey, I like you!” which then becomes “let’s have sex”, and then “I want to always be here for you and do everything for you and everything about you is incredible”... only to be stopped by “hey men are kind of trash aren’t they?”, the progression is all over the place. A record doesn’t need to be composed of only tracks that tell a concise story, of course, and I’ll talk about what this means for EMOTION later on.

The Second Set Of Second Three Tracks

“When you need me / I will never let you fall apart / When you need me / I will be your candle in the dark”

This is for later, don’t worry. :)

Tracks 7 through 9 are also quite the odd bunch, with a bunch of odd tracks with zero correlation between each other.

Making the Most of the Night is about being there for who you love no matter what, much like All That, with a sick beat instead of the more chill vibes. Your Type is a song about jealousy, one that is very welcome on EMOTION because it displays both themes of love and emotions very well. Your Type shines. It ranks very highly on every EMOTION ranking I see because it’s hard-hitting. “I’m not the type of girl for you / And I’m not going to pretend / I’m the type of girl you call more than a friend / And I break all the rules for you / Break my heart and start again / I’m not the type of girl you call more than a friend”? Damn. Let’s Get Lost is kind of meh. Run Away With Me did the whole “running away from everyone” deal a lot better. But I think it sets out to do a thing and it does the thing. Not particularly impressive, but it’s good.

I have seen people go insane because of someone saying their favorite EMOTION song was bad or annoying, so if you have felt personally offended by any of these, send me an ask. End all your asks with “+” so I know you hate me. It’s okay. My self-esteem is quite high nowadays. I also wish to keep track of which of you to watch out for. Unless you send them anonymously, of course. In that case, I hope I know how to evade you. I have seen this happen very frequently with people who like Let’s Get Lost, so that’s why I’m apologizing.

Why didn’t I apologize at the end, though? Well, it’s because the next three are my favorites.

The End: The Last Three Tracks

The last songs of an album are magical. All the themes shine after their exposition in earlier tracks, allowing the record’s message to be complete and meaningful. Of course, not every record needs to do this, but it’s a lot cooler if they do.

L. A. Hallucinations is a nice song about a love story that starts being interrupted because of fame and how impactful it is to one’s life, Warm Blood is this eerie-sounding track about creating this façade and hiding who you are, only to meet someone who makes you give up on everything because you wish to be completely truthful to them, and When I Needed You is the best Carly Rae Jepsen song. No, I am absolutely not biased, shut up.

I think the album’s title, and its theme of emotion, shine on the last tracks. The build-up for the closing track is simply wonderful, and it just ties everything together. The connections that opening and closing tracks (or simply first and second halves) have is a beautiful thing to witness. Let’s take Melodrama as an example, since I’ve been listening to it a lot lately.

Melodrama is divided into two main parts: Green Light through Hard Feelings, tracks 1 through 6; and Loveless through Perfect Places, tracks 6 through 11. The first half of the album is dedicated to Lorde sharing how she feels, how her breakup makes her feel, how harshly she feels everything. How she loved and how she is no longer loved, how she didn’t care about what happened to her as long as she was having fun and how she sees that what she was doing hurts herself. The second half is Lorde accepting that she is not loved by him anymore, that it is not really her fault and that she has to move on, knowing that her ex may or may not realize what he’s done. That’s why we get Sober II, when Sober was present in the first half, and Liability (Reprise), when Liability was also in the first half. The first half was about hurting and feeling awful, while the second part is about how you're not the only awful person out there. In Liability, Lorde believes wholeheartedly that she is a burden to everyone, that she is too much, that she needs to disappear, but in Liability (Reprise), she mocks such an idea, or perhaps even comes into terms with the fact that she is a liability, and then follows it up with “Whatcha gonna do?”, because if she admits such a thing and is not bothered by it, then it doesn’t matter. After reflecting on whether or not she’s a liability, she doesn’t care anymore.

EMOTION's When I Needed You is basically Melodrama's second half crammed into a single track, and oh, does it sound good. This track fixes every single problem I had with EMOTION's inconsistency, its contradictory themes. Because I can just argue that it's foreshadowing. This is the part where I argue that it's foreshadowing.

When I Needed You, And How Great Closing Tracks Are Important

When I Needed You basically turns EMOTION on its head. Everything about this track is straight up perfection. All the emotions that kept hiding from you and refusing to show themselves finally do in what is, in my opinion, the best closing track of any pop record.

It’s just… the way everything sounds, the amazing production, the lyrics, it’s all just… so perfect??? EMOTION (the track), Your Type and Boy Problems kind of don’t fit the theme of the rest of the record, they’re not about how amazing it is to be loved, and instead are about how painful it is (for EMOTION and Your Type) and how love does not matter (Boy Problems). When I Needed You somehow manages to tie all these themes together with stellar lyricism.

“Sometimes I wish that I could change / But not for me, for you / So we could be together forever”

The sheer power of these lyrics, oh wow. Carly is just so tired of things not working out that she wishes to become someone else. She wants to be who she isn’t. All of that, just because she likes someone who doesn't like her for who she is.

“But I know, I know that I won’t change for you / ‘cause where were you for me? / When I needed someone / When I needed someone / When I needed you”

Very few records reach this level of… I don’t know. It’s hard to explain. But not every track can take the premise of “I wish I were someone else, but is it worth it?” and do it like When I Needed You does.

Remember what I said in All That, how I saved those lyrics for later? This is the part I bring them up.

“When you need me / I will never let you fall apart / When you need me / I will be your candle in the dark”

“[...] where were you for me? / When I needed someone [...] / When I needed you”

Carly wishes to be everything for someone in All That, she wishes to do literally anything for her lover, but in When I Needed You, she reveals her lover won’t do a single thing for her. Her lover does not care for her. And it doesn’t matter what she does, it doesn’t matter because she is not who she wants her to be.

I’m a Bleachers blog too, so I’m bringing Strange Desire up. I think Strange Desire, much like EMOTION, suffers from not having a very cohesive theme between all its tracks. Most of them are about love, and then you have I Wanna Get Better, and some more songs about love, but the album is quite… tame? It sets out to do something and it does it, and I like it.

The final track of Strange Desire, “Who I Want You To Love”, is quite the odd one. Whereas most songs in Bleachers’ first record are about wanting to see someone evolve while also struggling with evolving yourself, Who I Want You To Love is not really like that. It’s more like a “I give up” letter.

“I will love who you want me to love / Oh, I will bleed when you want me to bleed / But I don’t wanna know too much of anything / Because it all hurts me”

WIWYTL is simply about giving up. Going so far you don’t care about what happens to you. And it’s a perfect closing track for a record like Strange Desire. It has feeling. It has emotion. It has power, strong themes, a message. It’s beautiful. If you only come here for my CRJ content, I highly recommend you listen to Bleachers. It’s a bit wonky at first, but I’m sure you’ll love it if you give it a try.

Back to CRJ though, When I Needed You is an example of how to do a closing track. The weird, contradictory messages that popped up every now and then? It was self-doubt. Doubt that this relationship could grow. That maybe everything was not so great. She experiences a breakup, then falls in love again, and again, and again, only to realize she was changing too much for the people she loved, she was doing too much, and she doesn’t need to do too much. She needs to be happy and make others happy being herself, instead of changing who she is. And this is the main lesson you should take from this song: if you’re changing who you are just to satisfy someone you love, and you’re not happy with who you’re becoming, stop. It is not worth it.

I think every track has a message that can be taken from it, and the most important ones lie in Run Away With Me and When I Needed You. And I think that’s why so many people LOVE Run Away With Me. Because they love the message. Because of how beautiful the lyrics are, and because of how many people identify with wanting to run away with who they love, because they’re queer, because others would not understand, because being LGBT+ is seen as sinful. Or maybe it’s about sex, and that’s what the sinning implies, but I like my (and many other people’s) interpretation better.

Well, that’s all I have for today! Have a great month and happy holidays. As we approach December, I might start pumping out extra content, potentially talking about other records I love (Melodrama lol) or some other things I feel like you (my beautiful lovely readers) might enjoy! If there’s an album you want me to listen to, feel free to send me recs through the asks function! Goodbye.

#carly rae jepsen #emotion #when i needed you #music #writeup #crj #emotion thinkpiece #can you tell that i enjoy melodrama from this writeup haha?

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fics-not-tragedies · 4 years

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In a Week: Chapter 17 🌲

More hurtful moments right around the corner, but I mixed it with some ridiculous humor, so you don’t die of heartbreak.

Words: 2575; Warnings: none; Summary: They try to part their ways for the rest of the day, but both fail at is miserably.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight; @angelpeachamber; @sgt-morgan; @julessbrown;

Tuesday, 12:05pm

Andrew had kept his promise to himself that he’d enjoy the four seconds of holding her, held his breath for each one, forgot who he was among the bliss of her perfume and then he had to let her go.

Though he instantly longed to touch her again, it was not a new need, rather one he learned to cope with even though it seemed overwhelming at times. As he pulled out of her touch, the air felt softer and lighter somehow.

“I’m just a little bit worried, em… that’s all…” he grumbled, “I don’t want to mess up again.”

“You didn’t mess anything up” she added, turning back to him, walking backwards down the garishly lit corridor as she spoke. He had a hint of worry in his otherwise perfect features, the way he was carrying himself, his deflated chest, creased eyebrows, and she had to soothe that, “You’ve done nothing wrong and we’re okay.”

Andrew lifted his head a little higher than he had before, nodding at her to show he understood and above all was grateful for this second chance. He hadn’t sketched out a fully formed plan in his head yet about what he was going to do with it, but he was thankful nonetheless. Flo still didn’t quite understand why he was blaming himself at all, wanted to carry the burden equally, knew that the drunken boiling over of tension last night was as much her fault as it was his, but he was too stubborn to hear that.

And even though they were feeling more content than before, they were both still repressing the panic of saying goodbye to each other before the week was up. As she looked at him, Flo considered changing her plans, delaying the inevitable, but had always been the kind of woman to rip the band-aid off and deal with the sudden shock, instead of dramatically prolonging any suffering. And she knew, no matter what would happen between them before she left Andrew to simply end everything, that something about him would always stay with her anyway. She would always have a piece of him right next to her like if they’d be buried together in one grave.

She never met anyone like him, nobody as smart and conscientious, endlessly fascinating and she liked to think some of his better qualities had imprinted on her too. The resounding fact that shocked her was that Andrew had never forced her into anything, instead peeled back the surface layer of who she was just with his charisma and charm and then gave her a firm nudge in the right direction towards the Flo she had locked away for so long.

Even though he was already forming a small for the rest of the upcoming week, it was clear that they needed to take a break from each other, even though it was only until the next morning. So quite naturally, they both decided to part their ways for the rest of the day, but since the world’s so small and the hotel was even smaller, they met again in a hot tub in the small pool area of the hotel.

Tuesday, 5pm

There were plenty of moments in his life that Andrew could recall having made him feel truly flustered because beneath the surface, it really didn’t take much to fluster him. Talking to his musical heroes at fancy parties. Interviews that were awkward and poorly executed. Watching his friends perform their new music. Difficult first dates.

But now here he was, watching Flo Hayes, climb into a hot tub, rosy cheeked and trying her very best not to flash more of her skin than was already on show and Andrew Hozier Byrne was very, very flustered.

Her body disappeared under the water for the most part, her breasts sinking just below the surface, but he could still see the top of them, her obvious cleavage, her collarbone which he ached to press his lips against. Her skin was shiny and fresh looking, the makeup that remained barely visible and he studied her face for a while, trying to learn it so that when it wasn’t there to devote his time to anymore, he’d at least find her in his daydreams.

He envied how radiant she looked no matter the time of day. There was no doubt she took care of herself, probably drank enough water, got enough sleep and he smiled at the thought of her tucked up in bed, wondered if she slept on her side or her back, whether she tied her hair up or if it sprawled across the pillow, amused himself with the imaginary sound of her snores. She tilted her head to him silently.

Suddenly worried she’d notice how blankly he was staring at her, Andrew climbed around and into the hot tub opposite Flo. His moves were precise as he sunk into the seat, trying to avoid her touch, trying to find a place to fit everything without accidentally brushing her beneath the surface. His hair were slicked back and tied into a small bun, only a few strands out of place and his chest was rising and falling uncontrollably with nervousness just from staring at her for so long. Flo rolled her eyes at his beard, his glowy eyes, how he never failed to look gorgeous even with that concentration face he was pulling.

Neither of them having spoken, Flo tried to relax, adjusted her back so it was more comfortable against the wall, spread her arms out a little further. There was plenty of room, but he was still close to her and every time he looked up at her across the bubbling surface, she was worried she’d lose her focus again. She tucked her wet hair behind her ears.

Andrew loved the way it shone under the lights of the small room, how perfectly straight it fell. He decided that she looked like some sort of ethereal goddess or like a siren who would’ve drawn him in if he was a lonely sailor at sea or like the kind of woman who renaissance painters would have dreamed of bringing to life on canvas. He blinked at her a couple of times as she met his eye line almost immediately. Her eyes were always curious, always thinking about the next thing.

“What?”

“I just can’t believe we run onto each other in a jacuzzi” Flo laughed at last, shaking her head. Andrew spread his legs out underwater and rested his arms on the back of the tub, trying to get comfortable himself. He seemed to toy with a response, she could see it bouncing around in his head, the corners of his lip curling as if they were anticipating his words.

“How does it feel?”

“How does what feel?” She sighed, knowing he’d prepared a question she didn’t understand just to evoke that very response, to keep his game of teasing her up. He wanted her to ask.

“Being in jacuzzi with a true music star” he smirked, eyebrows cocked in that way that made Flo want to simultaneously thump him around the head and climb into his lap and kiss him till he moaned against her.

“Oh, shut up.”

Tuesday, 5:15pm

He chuckled for what seemed like a long minute, impressed by the sulk she was pulling as she crossed her arms in front of her and shook her head, mouth cocked slightly open. It was then that Flo decided to test him, see how much information she could work out of him this time. He had nowhere to hide from her now, the room silent except for the sounds coming from the water and he seemed pretty sure of himself.

“Talk to me about it” she uttered after a soft moment of contemplation.

“About what?”

“About ‘being a true music star’…” she replied.

She noticed a small flinch, worried he was retreating into himself already, shoulders tight with tension, nose screwing up with doubt. He licked his lips then answered her.

“What do you want to know, love?”

“What’s it like?” She asked, keeping her response as vague as she could.

“It’s more like a love-hate relationship…” he responded, a little sooner than she’d been expecting, “I feel so lucky that, em, I can compose and perform my music to people who love it, but, em, on the other hand… I’m tired of being recognizable every place I go to.”

“It’s fascinating to me.”

“It’s really crazy. I had no idea that, em, things would get this big.”

He meant his career, had meant performing, but when he looked at her then, he also meant it about her. He truly had had no idea things would get this big with her when he saw it at the hotel bar.

“You get to do what you love and what you’re good at at the same time, that’s the dream, right?”

“Yes… but, sometimes I wonder, em, who I’d be if I wasn’t doing what I do now” he mumbled.

“You think it changed you somehow?” She asked, not having expected that response at all, but still feeling so humbled by the fact he was sharing anything at all.

“Yes, but just a little bit. Sometimes it feels like, em, the world knows more about me than I do” he scratched his head with one of his long fingers, like he was recalling something he’d read about himself that he hadn’t liked then shrugged, bringing his eyes back up, “Shit, sorry. Got a bit existential there…”

“It’s alright” Flo assured him, wishing she was closer to him so that she could use it as an excuse to touch him.

“It just scares me that, em, people can say anything they like about me.”

“Don’t you have a voice? Like an online presence?”

“I do… half owned by me, half by my team. Em, I bet people notice the difference between what I post and what my social media team does” he giggles a little, moving in the tub like he wanted to sink deeper, but he’s too tall to do so.

“As a musician, a person who writes his own songs from start to finish you have the chance to show your voice in your songs.”

“You’re right, em, I try to do it as often as possible…” he mumbled, lost in thought for a second. “Did you go to an university or a college?”

“Yes, did you?”

“Well, I started a college…”

“But you didn’t finished it?“

“But I didn’t” he confirmed, “music got me too busy and I fell into it completely” he lifted his hand from the water to scratch his neck as he spoke. “My Mum was worried at first, but she’s an artist too, em, she paints bloody gorgeous, so she understood that I’m doing what my heart wants.”

“Does she still worry?” Flo pushed.

“My Mum? No, no. Of course she’s stressed every time I’m coming home after a tour and, em, really takes care of me forgetting I’m near my thirties…”

Flo laughed again and tried to picture Andrew in any way domesticated. It was just as jarring for her to picture as being outside of the hotel together had been. She just couldn’t see him doing nothing for days on end.

“I’m kinda proud of myself, not every person has that relationship with their parents…” he swallowed sharply at the realization of how much he’d opened up to her. “What about yours?”

“My parents? They’re dead now…” she sighed.

“Oh, no… I’m- I- so sorry, Flo, I didn’t mean to…”

He nodded in her direction, fighting the urge to simply hold her in his warm embrace.

“You’re such a role model then…” she said, then quickly changing the subject, “I just can’t believe I didn’t make the connection…” she laughed, “…about who you are. I mean, I know the name now and it makes sense, but I have friends who’d be furious with me for not working it out sooner.”

“You gonna look me up later?” He chuckled, “On YouTube?”

“Who’s to say I haven’t already?” She teased, though it had been the last thought on her mind since she found out who he was. It was her golden rule with new people anyway, to work them out without using her phone, make an effort to connect in real life rather than finding out their dog’s name through their Instagram profile. And that golden rule was even more important now, with Andrew.

“No. I know you weren’t stalking me online, because, em, people who did that act differently…”

“Oh, but, I’ve already got you worked out, Andrew” she giggled, tapping her temple as if she had all the answers. He cocked his eyebrow immediately and ran his hand through the front of his hair to keep it in place.

She had such a devilish twinkle in her eye, like she’d been saving this moment for a while and he watched her shift her position slightly, leaning further towards him. His face was slightly pink from the steam that rose from the water surface and her hair was drying now with the slightest hint of frizziness. He was just about to ask her to prove her point when she was speaking again.

“You’re a perfectionist. Went to prom with a pretty girl, but you hated her dress-”

“Wait…” he asked, taken a little off guard by her sudden outburst, “Are you profiling me?”

“Well I always wanted to be a profiler…”

Intrigued, Andrew settled back into position then gave her a firm nod, lifting his hand as if to challenge her. She cleared her throat and continued.

“You send your Mum flowers whenever you feel guilty about not being home. You’re a heavy sleeper. Eat more sugar than you should. Have tried quitting smoking, but as I could see with my own eyes you failed miserably. You’re paranoid about trusting people, because you were let down by too many. You’ve broken a few hearts. Have more records at home than you have storage for. You’ve cried watching at least one Disney film - my money is on… Bambi.” Andrew laughed at that pause, “Good at bullshitting your way through anything. You have a pet - I bet it’s a dog. Worry about any mistake you make for at least two months…” Flo smiled softly before adding her last guess, one she knew was a fact: “And you’re not only big yourself, but you’ve got a big heart too, Andrew, you really care about people.”

There was a beat and Andrew folded his arms as she finished, blinking at her for a while. He tried to recall the ones she got wrong, but had been more focused on her smart mind, mesmerized by the way her thoughts were so clearly plastered across her face as she processed them. He was so impressed by the way she observed him and wanted to congratulate her.

“I know…” she said confidently, snapping him from his daze, “I’m pretty good at this.”

“Don’t you want to know which ones you got right?” He asked, the smirk on his face so full of excitement.

“You don’t know if they all fit until you catch the killer, Andy” she replied cockily, “It’s a profile, not fully fitting description of traits you have.”

“So I am the killer now?”

Yes, Andrew, you killed my heart with that kiss.

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nonopiimagines · 4 years

Text

confidant

Fandom: Mass Effect Pairing: Jeff “Joker” Moreau x fem!Shepard Warnings: swearing Word Count: 2063 Author Notes: for my Mass Effect Holiday Cheer giftee, @andersonsbiceps. i hope you like it and i’m sorry for the aggressive use of italics. <3

---

"Hey, choose me."

She turned to look at him, complete confusion on her face. Her hand was paused above the array of paperwork on her desk. He wondered for a moment why paper still existed. Perhaps for moments like this one, providing a period of time where a person could bother another person without really interrupting what they were doing.

“What?”

He was impressed that he was still able to look at her, tamping down the desire to turn his head away and blow off his next few sentences in favor of a joke. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly in his chair, “You heard me. Choose me.” He wished that he could be leaning nonchalantly on the wall or sitting on the edge of her desk, something that evoked confidence instead of sitting too straight in the weird minimalistic furniture that adorned the Normandy.

She turned back towards her desk and away from him, a chuckle and a smile swiveling out of view. "I don't know what you mean, Joker. Choose you for what exactly?" She picked up her pen but didn't start writing, waiting for him to answer the question, placing the pen by her mouth, completely unaware of what was coming.

The rehearsal of words he had repeated to himself over and over just hours before left him entirely, leaving his mind empty but words bubbling up dangerously from his heart. But he wanted to know. "What would you choose me for?"

"You're being really weird," she scoffed, throwing her pen down and turning back to him to face him fully. It was getting really difficult not to look away, especially when determination lit up her face and her eyes wore into him, searching for the answer to his cryptic questions. "But I'll play along."

He nodded at her to keep going, willing her to find the truth he was suddenly too afraid to say outright. God, she was intimidating, even right now, even when it was just the two of them, from the beginning to the end. He could feel the rapid pace of his heart and he was keenly aware of the other times in his life when he felt like this, like this was the moment that would change him forever, but this time it was something good. Not being chased by praetorians, not watching the destruction of the Normandy, not watching her die. No. It was a confession.

It took her a few moments, but it was clear that she knew her answer almost immediately. She leaned forward, closer to him, resting her forearms on her knees, keeping her clear, keen eyes on him. "Most people might say they'd choose you for a pilot and they'd be right," she paused, her gaze roaming around his face as she searched for her words. "But I'd choose you for a therapist."

Now it was his turn. "What? Commander, despite what you may believe, I'm not a therapist, I just play one on TV." That earned him what would've been a shove in another life, but ended up as a swift pat on his hand. She was always careful, always thoughtful, but still unwilling to take his bullshit.

"No, listen to me." She was serious, all joking and smiles aside, her face went back to it's stoic demeanor, but fondness poured from her eyes. "You know all my secrets, you've seen me at my best and my worst, you've even seen me dance! But you always treat me the same. You're always one hundred percent real with me, you don't sugar coat anything, and I trust you to stay that way. I may not show it all the time, but I need you more than you know. You're more than just my pilot."

He was taken aback by the way the words just erupted from her mouth, no fear or unease behind them, just pure organic unbound emotion. Emotion towards him, about him, for him. It was too late by the time he noticed his cheeks felt hot and his mouth was opening and closing much like a fish.

"Maybe therapist isn't the right word. I don't want you to have to listen to all my fucked up shit, but I trust you with it, is what I'm trying to say." She almost looked embarrassed for a moment, floundering for the right words, but he couldn't count it as a win because he was sure he looked just as mortified as her. "Confidant might be more realistic."

Therapist? Confidant? What he wanted to hear was aggressively sexy bed and life partner, but he knew those words would never come out of her mouth in that order. He took off his hat and scratched the back of his head as an excuse to look away for a moment, wondering what he should say next, if he was allowed to read into her words for more than their surface value. Yeah, they knew each other for a long time. Yeah, he knew just as much about her as she knew about him. Yeah, there was a mutual layer of trust connecting them always. They always knew all that, but hearing Jane say it to him, a confirmation of the last few years they've spent together, a confirmation that she had seriously thought about their relationship beyond their rank and title, a confirmation that she didn't just think of him as a co-worker or even a friend. You're more than just my pilot.

"Did I give you the answer you wanted? Did you come up here just to fish for compliments?" Her teasing tone and broad smile were back, doing what should’ve been his job of diffusing a tense situation with jokes and sarcasm.

He smiled back at her, placing his hat on the table next to him. He felt exposed, no brim to hide his face but he needed the rush of adrenaline to keep him going. The conversation couldn't end here. He had gotten this far, all that was left was the hardest part.

"Uh, yeah kinda and no." Keep going, she won't stay here forever playing this weird close-quarters eye contact and bare your heart game of tag with you, he begged to himself. Keep going.

"Yeah kinda?" She rolled her eyes and sat back, leaning her head on her fist. "Then what should I choose you for, Jeff?" There was a little twinkle in her eye every time she said his name, his real name, like she was bragging, everyone knows Joker, but only she knows Jeff. It ignited a fire inside him, pushing him forward. Keep going.

“I see the way they look at you. Garrus. Liara. Kaidan. Even fucking Javik. Everyone loves you. And I, uh,” he looked at his hands, knowing that this declaration wasn’t as momentous as it sounded in his head. But it needed to be out there. “I want you to know that I’m looking at you too.”

She was quiet and he was too afraid to look up to see what she was thinking, to see if he had truly messed up or not. Maybe all she wanted was a confidant. That would be okay. He could walk out of here, back-pedal everything he said, and carry on like nothing changed. Him and the commander are just really good friends, the kind that don’t sleep together, but the kind that still share everything with each other. He would be okay with that (but only after a few days of staring into the abyss of space, listening to whiny pop punk songs, wondering what could have been so he could push it all away and continue).

“So,” she began, her voice suddenly quiet and small. He heard her movements as she got up out of her chair and knelt in front of him, to take his hands in hers, to force him to stop staring at himself and do what he claimed he was doing all along: looking at her. “You’re saying if I choose anyone at all, choose you.”

“Yeah, choose me.” Those words alone took everything out of him, to keep his voice steady, to not be a total creep and word-vomit out his feelings, to say just enough that he got the point across. Her eyes were darting over his face again, perhaps wondering if he was joking with her but he wasn’t. He wouldn’t joke about this. “I can be your therapist, I can be your confidant, I can be the pilot you bang on occasion, whatever you want.”

She laughed at that, her face close enough to his that she had to turn her head. He felt the whispers of her stray hairs on his cheeks and for a moment his heart stopped when she looked back at him, nothing hurtful or distrustful in her face, just a smile that was always there when he looked at her. Was it overconfident to think it was him that made her smile? A boy could dream.

“Okay,” she nodded, still so close to him.

“Yeah?” He had to be sure.

“Yeah.”

“I think we should kiss, just to seal the deal.”

“You’re right, it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

He watched her and she watched him. But she was always the one to move first, to react quickly to situations, to make the most of a pivotal decision. Her hand lifted, gripping the couch to hoist herself up, to straddle his lap, always hovering just above him, pushing his head back just by the sheer force of her willpower. Jane was all muscles and scar tissue and cybernetics and everything about her screamed that she could rip him apart if she wanted to, but her lips were soft and her hair was softer when he put his hand in it, to let it slide through his fingers, wanting the moment to last forever, to feel her breath on his and the warmth radiating from her body above him. She was life and she was death and then it was over. One chaste kiss and then she was pulling away, he could only see her smirk before she pushed his hat back on his head, using the brim to cover his eyes while she moved away, back to her chair, back to her desk, back to the paperwork that made this all possible.

And all he could think was everything was worth it. Every part of this was fucking worth it.

“Now, don’t you have a ship to pilot?” Jane said after a moment of watching each other, waiting for someone to say something, to break the spell, to interrupt the satiated feeling of telling someone your last secret.

“I can stay here all day. EDI can take care of things.” He wanted to stay forever. He felt reborn, ready to take everything head on, but also ready to spend an extensively long time laying around, being in her presence, soaking up her existence into his, as they lay together face-to-face. He felt like a goddamn teenager, but there was no better feeling.

“You’ve become a distraction, Joker,” she stood up again, offering him a hand to help him up too. “Especially in the last 10 minutes.”

He smiled at that. Who else could distract the commander Shepard? His thoughts turned to Anderson and what sort of hell would be raised when he found out that the one guy he trusted to keep Shepard out of trouble might be the same asshole who’s getting her into trouble. That could be distracting too. He grimaced but continued, “I’m happy to be a distraction for you anytime.”

She seemed to think about that as she walked him to the elevator, his hand still holding hers purposefully, full of intent, finding it really difficult to let go, even when the sound of the elevator doors welcomed him into its cold, empty embrace.

“You could distract me later, when I’m done being commander and I’m ready to be Jane,” she offered, finally letting go of his hand, but keeping her body weight against the door of the elevator to prevent it from closing. “I’ll call you up.”

“Looking forward to it, commander.” He hoped he didn’t sound too eager, too puppy-like in his infatuation. He waved at her as she stepped back, her arms folding as the doors began to slide close.

“Me too.”

#mass effect holiday cheer #mass effect #mass effect fan fiction #andersonsbiceps #jokerxfem!shepard

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howtolistentomusic · 4 years

Photo

Dear people that think the Goodwill wants to sell your Ziploc baggie of used crayons: it doesn’t. That shit goes directly into the trash, right on top of your broken furniture. Surely you mean well when you donate, say, an old dresser with a busted leg. But good intentions can’t magically transform a ragtag crew of temp agency employees into proper handymen.

If, however, you need an informed opinion on one of those homemade mixtapes that sometimes find their way into the warehouse, I might be your man.

Once upon a time I managed to con my way into the world of online music writing. As one might expect from a blogger haughty & naive enough to write under the banner How to Listen to Music, many of my insights have aged terribly. But I was constantly learning from the best critics, journalists and bloggers in the field and HtLtM was gaining steam before my fragile discipline collapsed under the weight of increasing visibility. I still believe deeply in the merits of the template I created to analyze songs on Youtube, which was unlike anything on the internet before or since. Maura Johnston seemed to like it, at least.

And yet I failed miserably at turning these creative endeavors into a sustainable career. So here I am, handling donations at my local Goodwill warehouse for minimum wage. Today old man Kenneth and I are inside the container, which is the detachable part of a freight truck the drivers dump on the dock for the roll-off team to unload. We’re placing the donations on the open edge for the guys outside to grab and toss into gaylords. Yes, the thick cardboard boxes with an open top we place on pallets to store donations in are called gaylords. And yes, my coworkers think this is hilarious. Death, taxes, and “they’re calling you!” from one roll-off laborer to another every time the term is overheard.

***

“You dropped this,” Kenneth says as he hands me a crate of CDs.

“If there’s no Justin Bieber, it’s not mine.” I say.

“You better cut that shit out!” David says.

“He’s joking,” Donald tells David.

I laugh.

“I know you!” Donald says.

“Dude, I’m a poptimist.”

“A what?“

Let’s start by pointing out that it’s a hell of a lot easier to be an "authentic” artist, as a certain orthodoxy of criticism dictates one should be, when your very existence isn’t under constant attack. You’re in luck, straight white dudes! Again. What a coincidence.

Poptimism basically says nay! to all the noise. The Beatles go to Jupiter to get more stupider. Gaga goes to Mars to get more candy bars. Or college, I suppose, if your childhood sucked.

“It means I listen to pop.” Among many other genres, to be very clear. “Top 40. All the stuff you guys probably hate.”

“Bullshit!” Donald says.

I don’t know who he thinks I am but it’s clearly someone much, much cooler.

“I thought you were smart!” David says.

“Am I no longer smart if I listen to Justin Bieber?”

“Nope!” says Kenneth.

“Oh shut up!” I say to the grizzled geezer. “Go jack off to Creedence.”

“I’d rather get gang banged by CCR than listen to that little homo.”

You heard it here first. Listening to Justin Bieber: gayer than being gay!

“Really? Justin Bieber?” David says. “Wow. You think you know a guy.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Marvin Gaye! Stevie Wonder! James Brown!”

What’s Going On. Songs in the Key of Life. Think. These are all stone cold classics. I have a healthy respect for these artists but they aren’t in my regular rotation.

“Those guys are before my time. If we move up a few decades, I’m totally there. New Edition, Boyz II Men, Soul 4 Real …”

“Now we’re talking!”

“Bieber’s better though.”

David throws up his arms in wild exasperation, as if his favorite sports team just botched an important play. He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m trolling him.

To be clear, I do indeed listen to Justin Bieber’s music. “Baby” is catchy as hell, and the song’s DNA can be heard in other notable pop releases from the era such as Katy Perry’s blockbuster Teenage Dream and internet darling Carly Rae Jepsen’s Kiss. I also like “Never Say Never” if only for hearing Jaden Smith say “No pun intended / was raised by the power of WIll.” And for an album created by a former child star falling apart at the seams, Purpose has no business being as good as it is. Stand-out track “Love Yourself” contains the immortal roast “My momma don’t like you and she likes everyone.” And with its heavy utilization of short, staccato notes and sudden, dramatic rests, the song is my favorite example of a distinct style of guitar playing favored by many male musicians. Such “cool pauses” give these songs a slightly broken, incomplete feel that mirrors the artist’s self-assured “deal with it” tone and I love it.

Even Carlos, my arch enemy, likes “Love Yourself”. A while back we were inside the warehouse creating pallets of our best furniture to be sent to proper Goodwill retail locations. Supervisor Anna miraculously felt like hearing some contemporary hits that day and had the building’s three radios tuned to Live 105.5, our local top 40 station. “Love Yourself” played.

“This is Bieber’s only good song,” Carlos told me. He tried to sing along but quickly lost the words. “Sing it!” he said. “I know you know it!”

I wasn’t sure if I should be offended by being stereotyped or impressed by his accuracy. Nonetheless, it was true! I did know the words! I picked up where he left off.

”‘Cause if you like the way you look that much / Oh baby you should go and love yourself / And if you think that I’m still holdin’ on to somethin’ / You should go and love yourself.“

It wasn’t a particularly strong vocal performance but Carlos, somehow, was awed.

“Daaaaaaamn!” he cooed. It was perhaps the only time I ever impressed him.

Carlos, in case it wasn’t clear, is an asshole. He’s the type of open misogynist that progressives, in our insulated internet bubbles, are shocked to realize still exist. My masculinity isn’t up to par with his standards and he likes to torture me because of it.

Carlos is off today but there’s a small part of me that wishes he was here. He’d have no trouble buying the fact that I listen to Justin Bieber. At the same time, I know I need to be careful. After all, Bieber is far from my favorite musician. But I can’t help it. Playing Bieleber is such a fun and easy way to rile up my coworkers.

“You need a lesson in quality, my boy!” David says.

“I’m all ears!” I say, but he just shrugs.

If I wanted to be really mean, I could point out that David just might be the true Bieleber in roll-off. See, David the Bieber-hating quality expert is the same David that sometimes drops me off at the bus station after our shift ends. More than once on these trips, a Justin Bieber song played on the radio. Did he change the station? Nope!

David seems to be harboring a lot of hate for a musician whose songs he doesn’t even recognize. This doesn’t surprise me, of course, because Bieber hate is barely about Justin Bieber.

Leonardo DiCaprio. Robert Pattinson. Zac Efron. Boy bands. The Biebs. Celebrities like these are cut from the same cloth in that they’re overwhelmingly attractive in a way that draws ravenous, predominantly female fanbases. In turn, this provokes intense contempt and ridicule from traditional dudes everywhere. This is bullshit. It’s retaliation against open female desire that, in an affront to their entitlement, isn’t directed towards Man McAverage.

Evoking “quality” is no exemption from these kinds of considerations. Many people treat the word as if it’s an objective and universal set of standards everyone intuitively understands but this is nonsense. Quality is more like a self-shaped hole we attempt to carve into the world, both encompassing and reproducing our ideals, desires, prejudices, etc. It sure as hell doesn’t explain itself.

I’ve been immersed in the world of music writing for a long time. My favorite publications tend to be ones that upend the very idea of quality. The Singles Jukebox gathers a variety of writers to weigh in and score the same song, and reading wildly different takes on what makes art good or bad is enlightening. One Week // One Band achieves something similar by inviting a different writer (sometimes a professional, sometimes not so much) to take over the blog for a seven-day deep dive into a musician they love, with “no rules and no canon” dictating who that musician can be. And then there was Hipster Runoff, the defunct but brilliant meta exploration of taste and identity that often delved into the ingredients of quality that we don’t like to talk about.

I think I ‘like’ them because they are differentiated from 'traditional music’ and 'modern indie music.’ When I listen to them, I exist on a higher plane of musical appreciation and consume products for 'all the right reasons.’

- Carles, the voice of Hipster Runoff, on Animal Collective

Quality shouldn’t be a Get Out of Bullying Your Co-Worker Free card. But after a lifetime of living with what is often considered bad taste, I’ve learned to be on the offensive just in case.

Try harder, fuckers.

#minwagepop

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spinedw8rm · 4 years

Text

American Boyfriend: A Suburban Love Story

I’ve been sitting on this idea for a while trying to decide which album to do first; which thoughts do I have most crystalline? Then it hit me. I opened my Spotify and went straight to typing. K- I don’t think there are many albums that are so definitively teenage. E- And what I mean by this isn’t that there aren’t albums that are for teenagers of describe the emotions of teenagers. V- It’s more of the idea that this album plays out like a walk home from high school. I- Maybe it’s my sexuality that ties me so deeply to this album. N- I just know that there isn’t another album I don’t think I can write more about than this one. Kevin Abstract – American Boyfriend: A Suburban Love Story I don’t think there is any contemporary artist that I look up to quite like I look up to Kevin Abstract. This album covers the trauma that Kevin Abstract has been through in a very loud and unique way. The themes of loneliness shine through in a populated story. It’s a story of unrequited love, in two different ways, between Kevin or the Helmet Boy character (the album is so personal, it begs the question if Helmet Boy is a even a character in the traditional sense- I view it as more of a vessel that allows Kevin to deliver this tragic story) and the boyfriend; but also, the unrequited love between Kevin and his family that is practically screamed in this album. It’s truly heartbreaking to listen to. I relate to the lyrics and the storyline a lot due to my sexuality and the feelings and pressures I felt and feel in my family. I love every track on this album. There isn’t one that I question the honesty behind. This album feels like a diary, like a therapy session. Again, it’s heartbreaking but it’s so beautiful to hear. Some personal favorite parts are Empty- the entirety of this opening track is so cinematic, and it delivers on all the central themes of the album within its runtime. Kevin’s singing is so perfectly melodramatic. His pronunciation, and the way he changes and whines in his pitches truly makes this album a wonderful hip hop and RnB album with the perfect amount of emo flair. I also really enjoy the following track, Seventeen. This song is so…honest, and that’s a word I’m going to be using a lot to describe this album. The song feels like a warm memory. The beginning to Tattoo is so sweet as well, I love the guitars. It feels like listening to a 90’s alternative band, and I’m sure that’s an intentional conjuration. Yellow is another song that I admire. The production on this track is so memory evoking, right around the 2:34 mark it feels like I’m walking around the streets of my neighborhood, the hot sun beating on me as sweat drips off my face. It feels like I’m walking home after having my ass handed to me at wrestling practice by the one kid that never wanted to wrestle me because I’m gay. If that song is that memory, then Runner is the memory of sobbing so hard I got a fever. Runner, June 29th, Miserable America, American Boyfriend, Echo, and I Do (End Credits) all work hard to bring the second half of the album to life. June 29th puts a very fresh spin on a very 90’s emo production. The song reminds me of Carissa’s Weird oddly enough, I think it’s the bass and the live recordings. Miserable America is running at night, as fast as you can. Miserable America is crossing the finish line with your hands held up high above your head, you can’t breathe and your lungs hurt so much that the corners of your mouth are bleeding into the corners of your eyes as you gasp for air. Your thighs are burning and your ankles are sore, but you turn around, look at what you’re running from and realize that you’re going to have to run back. The blown-out production and guitar at the end both remind me a bit of In The Aeroplane By The Sea. American Boyfriend is lying down in the middle of the football field. It’s dark out and you should be home, you should definitely have put on a coat, but you stay there staring at the sky. Echo is the answer back. Echo is walking back home from the football field. It’s the feeling of hopelessness, longing, and defeat. It’s the feeling that you’re on the verge of making a decision, and the uncertainty of the repercussions. I Do (End Credits) is my favorite skit on the album. It perfectly closes out the album. It’s very KA. This album feels so very high school to me, and maybe that’s just projection. The real beauty in it, is that I didn’t listen to American Boyfriend until I was already out of high school. It somehow is the soundtrack to my youth without me even having listened to it at the time, but I’m sure that if I did- my story would be a little different.

#kevin abstract #american boyfriend

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itsgonnabe-brian-may · 5 years

Text

8 inches...

Welcome to my first fic, I hope you like it :) feel free to critique and give feedback. Also feel free to request or want to be added to my tags lol, Imma try and post like once a week at least. Anyways enjoy and please be kind :) -M

Warnings: fluff // one sexual innuendo // bad writing // a few swears

Ben!Roger Taylor x reader

Word count: 1087

✦✧✦✧

An intense shiver threw you from sleep. It was mid-January and understandably cold, especially in the cheap shithole apartment you called home. Somedays you would have to scrape ice from the inside of the glass panes scattered thoughtlessly throughout the rooms. You assumed they were only there to meet the fire code, but they gave some life to the grey walls, especially in the spring. In reality, spring was only like two months away but it felt like an eternity. Another shiver came from the mound under the blankets in your shared bed. A cold hand found its way under your sweater contacting bare skin causing startling you from your thoughts. Letting out a muffled gasp, the mound that the hand belonged to laughed and pulled you closer. Soon cold limbs found their way onto your bare skin evoking a scream while you tried to get out of Roger's grasp.

"nothing sexual love, just survival" he muttered in your ear whilst pulling you closer. If he was fully awake the sentence would've been an innuendo or something. Still, you squirmed around trying not to have bare skin contact bare skin, it was too damn cold. The two of you laid there in silence for a bit savoring the warmth. It was quite peaceful, which was unheard of in your life. Normal mornings were filled with fighting over the tiny bathroom to get ready or running around to find a pair of shoes that you just HAD to wear with your outfit. Normally Roger would scoff and make some comment about how "They're just shoes Y/N". So you started hiding his shoes and clothing for a matter of fact. Now every cupboard was practically a closet. So the stillness was unusual but welcomed. It didn't last long. Roger shot out of bed faster than a kid on Christmas but wasn't as excited.

"Shit, Shit, Shit" He swore under his breath, pulling off his sweats and pulling on some jeans. "What is it Rog?" you said sitting up in bed still not understanding what was going on all of a sudden. "I promised the boys we could record today, we're almost done with the album," He said pausing for a brief second to look at you. You let out a laugh and threw off the pile of blankets. "They'll understand if your late, we can just blame it on the snow..." You said before looking outside through the small window. Roger joined you standing with his arm on your shoulder. Both of you looked like you had seen a ghost. You truly were going to be late because of the snow. You had never seen so much on the ground. Sure it snowed in London and you've been on ski holiday before, but yesterday there was a thin layer with grass poking out to say hello. Today their hellos were drowned by a thick layer of snow.

"Now I'm going to be really late" Roger sighed and went back to getting dressed. "Well no worries, you have a master shoveler as your girlfriend," You said in a sing-song tone. Your time spent in the Alps had prepared you to handle the elements. Especially snow. You threw on a pair of jeans and a warm sweater and slid on a pair of boots and a light coat. Grabbing gloves and a shovel from the entry closet, you were ready to embark on your shoveling expedition. Normal apartment complexes had a parking garage or someone to shovel, but since you were a poor student and outright refused to have Roger pay more than half of the rent you settled on a cheap place with an open parking lot and lazy landlords along with residents who were pretty much just waiting for someone else to do it. That someone else was you and Roger. Roger shortly joined you in the treck downstairs and outside.

It was way worse than you had originally thought. Normally with heavy snow, it went up to your boot, but today it was at the middle of your calf. Roger let out a hopeless groan, "This is going to take forever Y/N!! I have to be there in half an hour". You laughed and shook your head of snow that had begun to pile up. "You underestimate me, love. You'll be there in no time". Having said that you began shoveling your hearts away. Soon it turned into a competition on who could shovel the fastest. Dividing the parking lot into two and yelling go the race was on. However, neither of you played fair, Roger ended up just pushing all the snow onto your side. You did the same but ended up just throwing it at Roger. Both of you ended up dropping the shovels and throwing the loose powder at each other. At one point you were flung over Rogers' shoulder unexpectedly, letting out a playful scream and attempting to get out of his grasp was hopeless but you struggled anyways. He let out a scream to match yours and tossed you into the snowbank that had just enough snow to make a soft landing. "ROGER!" You yelled as you were now going to be wet for the rest of the day, it was a good thing you didn't really try to do your hair or anything. Roger stood there laughing his ass off at the sight of you sitting in a pile of snow upset. He was snapped out of his fit of laughter when a snowball hit his face straight on, some landing in his mouth. The shocked and angry facial expression quickly melted into a mischevious one as he lunged on top of you pressing you down in the snow further. Your shriek was muffled but your laughter rang out beautifully. Both of you sat in the snow laughing contagiously. Roger decided to spoil the peaceful moment in typical Roger fashion.

"Who knew 8 inches would make you so happy" He quipped with a smirk on his face. You gaped at his comment for a second, "Oi! Don't you have an album to record!" You remarked shoving a handful of snow in his face. With an open hand, he wiped off the snow on his face and joined you on your way to his car.

Needless to say, you showed up late and both of your jeans and hair dripping wet. None of the other boys could comment as you both were laughing your asses off while walking into the studio.

// yall thought this was gonna be nasty, don’t lie to me.

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tidesreach · 5 years

Note

what are your top 5 clips/scenes from s2 of skam italia? (i know it's hard to choose)

This was incredibly difficult, anon. How dare you? But l gave it a good go. This took longer to answer than I intended because I am me and thus I could not stop prattling on. Sorry? But here we are:

1. La Grotta / Martino e Niccolò

Tied first place because it is impossible to separate them. I refuse. I know I have already talked everyone to death about both of these clips but I just adore them. Every single thing about them. They are so important. La Grotta took my breath away. Both Rocco and Fede did such an incredible job at conveying the emotion of this moment. Because the thing is, Marti's issue was never entirely to do with Nico having a mental illness. Despite what happened in Milan, Marti still wanted to see Nico, to know that he was okay. Marti's struggle was predominantly with the idea that Maddalena (*side-eyes*) planted in his head that Nico's illness somehow voided their relationship and his feelings for Marti. Nico's illness never made Marti love him any less. In fact, Marti was afraid of the opposite. That Nico's illness meant that Nico didn't love him. And all of that is just so apparent in this clip. Because as soon as Marti realises that Nico is truly in love with him, not even God himself can fucking stop him from getting to that terrace. The entire scene on the terrace is utterly heart-wrenching and breathtaking. One of the most beautiful things about that moment is that Marti does not stop smiling through it all. It is the most certain and understanding and reassuring smile. He looks at Nico with so much softness and conviction. Because he knows that Nico loves him now. And that's all that really matters. Yes, it's going to be tough. But it's worth every second. He breaks through Nico's shame. He literally kisses away his tears. He soothes Nico's deepest fears. And all Nico can do is watch in silent awe that this boy really exists in front of him. That Marti's not ashamed of him or abandoning him. Like, it's so beautiful? Everything about it is just so beautiful.

Martino e Niccolò is just as beautiful. I've talked about this before so I'm not going to write an essay, but Nico's fragile vulnerability hit me like a fucking train. I can feel every single moment of his conflict and shame in this scene. Of how utterly terrified he is of Marti witnessing a depressive episode. Terrified that he's going to drag Marti down with him and that Marti will inevitably end up hating him and leaving him. And Marti handles it with such care and reassurance. So much gentle certainty. I am truly in awe of that boy. He is such a grounding presence for Nico. It was so lovely to see Nico respond the way he did. Because despite how completely horrible he feels he manages to smile. And that's a wonderful thing.

(Also I love when Marti's on the phone to Maddi and she says, "It's not true that he only wants to be with you because of his illness" etc. Because Marti's face is so funny? His expression literally says, "Yeah, cheers, but I already fucking know that now. No thanks to you." In fact, he doesn't even dignify the comment with a response. I love you, Martino.)

2. Due Ore

I will never forget the night that clip dropped (or the previous night when we were all sat waiting for it and it didn't drop, what a fucking time). I love every single second of Due Ore. The atmosphere -- the feeling -- of that scene was just incredible. It was like an exhale. You could feel it. Could feel the relief, the finally, this is where we're supposed to be, after the tumultuous push-and-pull of the last couple of weeks. You could feel the inevitability of it when they were stood there staring at each other. Nico's nervous anticipatory smile as he waited for Marti to make the first move. Marti grinning back at him in earnest. They both knew that there needed to be an actual conversation at some point. But in that moment it just wasn't necessary. It could wait. Because everything was written on their faces. This is what I want. You are what I want. We talk about fate a lot with these two -- the red string of fate! -- and I never felt it more strongly than I did in this scene. You could almost see the damn string tying them together. It was inevitable and they both knew it.

3. Patatine e Marmellata

Getting to see them wake up together was such a blessing. The way Marti was sleeping on Nico's chest, gosh. They looked so peaceful and content. It was wonderful. And their conversation -- the conversation that they inevitably had to have -- about Maddalena was important. "I want to figure out how I feel for myself." It gave us an important insight into Nico's headspace and the way the people around him treat him and his illness. When Marti directly asks him how he feels, Nico's face just lights the fuck up. It hurts my heart a little. When was the last time someone asked him that without trying to dictate the answer for him? His soft, whispered answer of "You know perfectly well. And it's never happened to me before." He knows how he feels and he can finally say it and not have it questioned. Marti's smile and his little breath of a laugh -- like he just can't contain how delighted he is that they feel the same way -- before his "Me neither". And then of course, Buon Viaggo. The way they literally cannot stop grinning at one another. Their soft kisses in between serenading each other. I mean, you could not make this up. And god, the way Marti stares up at Nico when he starts singing absolutely floors me every time. He is so in love with him he is completely incapable of keeping it off his face. Then he just straight up calls him the man of his dreams. And not forgetting the boys and their incredible dance and sing-a-long while cleaning the kitchen. How was this clip even real? What a fucking blessing.

4. Nel Mio Letto

Soft Boyfriends(tm). This is always my first go-to clip when I'm feeling particularly awful. Because there is just something so incredibly comforting about it. It's like a warm blanket and a hot cup of tea on a bitter cold winter's day. I think it's to do with the cosy softness of it all. The way they're intertwined. The sleepy cuddles and kisses. The coffee. The coffee heart. The song. It's like a wonderful bubble of contentment. Like Nico's bed is its own little safe haven. I love the whole atmosphere of it. It really does feel like they are the only two people in the world. Which ties in perfectly with their conversation about the last man on earth. (Still sad they didn't get their three days in bed though.)

5. Halloween

HALLOWEEN. Everything about this is iconic. The giraffes on the beer glasses? Marti dramatically ditching his mask in front of the Catholic church? The lighting in the pool? That shot of them underwater where they're surrounded by an endless expanse of water like they're in the ocean? Nico somehow managing to never stop fucking smiling at Marti even when trying to hold his breath underwater? I love that Skam Italia managed to make the pool scene their own. It was a world away from the OG scene (in the sense that it has a completely different feel to it) and I love that. I love that they're both essentially the same scene but evoke so many different emotions. There was this sort of giddy anticipatory feeling with Marti and Nico. Their kiss was like taking that first breath after being underwater for so long. The way they clung to each other? The way they were so in awe of each other? Like in Due Ore there was that overwhelming feeling of joy and relief. Finally.

Honorary mentions, because just five is too hard:

Tu Non Sei di Milano

It feels a little bizarre to call it a favourite clip. It would perhaps be more accurate to say that it is a clip that particularly resonated with me. I have only watched this clip in its entirety three times. The first time I was on a bus to London -- frankly I should have known better than to watch it in public -- and I almost had a panic attack while watching it. I sobbed in a public bathroom for a good twenty minutes, it was quite the day. Because I recognised so much of myself in Nico and his behaviour and I felt so much empathy for him. It hit me like a fucking train. It was the most difficult clip to watch, but it was also incredibly important. It took me a long time to rewatch it. The second and third times were difficult too. But also cathartic in a way. When you suffer from an illness like BPD, it can be incredibly isolating. You can feel like there is no one else in the world who can possibly understand what you're going through or what it feels like. Sometimes I think, "I'm ridiculous. No one else does this crazy shit. Why am I like this? Why can't I just snap the fuck out of it?" Watching that clip was validating in a lot of respects. It was difficult to watch but it also reminded me that I am not alone. That there are other people out there who experience the same struggles that I do. Who battle with episodes like this too. It was an incredibly tough watch, but it was so important.

Also, veering away from the more painful aspects of that clip: I absolutely love the way Nico seduced Marti in front of that damn neon light. Marti's soft and naive voice when he's attempting to read the "how fun". Nico's "no, no, it says Marti and Nico" and insisting Marti look again just so he can catch him by surprise in a kiss. Those achingly slow and soft kisses they exchange are probably my favourite kisses of theirs. That scene was just so intimate and beautifully done.

Vediamo

One of my favourite things about this season is the dynamic between Marti and his mother. It was so lovely to watch them heal and slowly but surely repair their relationship. Vediamo really captured the essence of that. Marti's misplaced anger towards his mother during the fallout of Milan. The brutal yelling. The way they both sit on opposite sides of the door. Marti's quiet and tearful "Are you sitting there?" His mum asking him if he thinks she would have a problem with it and then her sobbing "You are the most important thing in my life." The two of them just bloody sobbing on either side of the door. I am tearing up thinking about it. Good grief. I absolutely adore Mamma Rametta. And of course, "Vediamo" and her calling it Martinese for "No." Their tearful laughter. I love it so much. They have their ups and downs but they really do love each other unconditionally.

Effettivamente

This might just be one of my favourite coming out scenes that I have ever witnessed. Fede did such a wonderful job at conveying Marti's inner struggle. The way Marti has to fight to get the words out. The way he falters a little when he says "It's not a girl." It makes my own heart falter every single fucking time I watch it. You can see him wrestling with the words. And Gio, darling Gio. I love Giovanni Garau with a U (it's Sardinian), resident Love Wizard. He's such a wonderful friend and I just really adore the way he handles it. The way he stops playing FIFA to give Marti his full attention. That wonderful and supportive smile of his. How he asks questions about Niccolò and lets Marti get out some of the shit he's been holding onto. He really puts Marti at ease. You can see the relief seep into Marti's body when he realises that nothing is going to change between them because of this. Marti's huge smile when Gio says "He needs to leave his girlfriend" and then ruffles Marti's hair. I love supportive best friends.

And there you have it. Sorry, you asked for five and I gave you about nine. You probably didn't want a novel. But what can I say? I have a lot of love to share.

#skam italia #aela answers things #do i ever shut up?#skam italia: thoughts

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mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 5 years

Text

Now 2~Gdragon Pt.30

Genre:Angst/SMUT

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:7,138

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!

Y/N POV

Nine days. Nine days have gone by without a single word from Jiyong. I didn’t think it was possible for me to go a single day without speaking to him, let alone nine. It feels like one hundred, honestly, though each hour does hurt microscopically less than the prior one. It hasn’t been easy, not even close to that. Ken made a call to Mr. Vance asking that I be allowed to take the rest of the week off, which only meant missing one day anyway.

I know I’m the one who left, the one who walked away, but it kills me that he hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me. I have always given more in the relationship, and this was his chance to show me how he truly feels. I guess in a way he’s showing me—it’s just that what he feels is the opposite of what I had desperately wanted. Needed.

I know that Jiyong loves me, I do. However, I also know that if he loves me as much as I thought he did, he would have made it a point to show me by now. He said he wasn’t going to let this go, but he did. He let it go, and he let me go. The part that scares me the most is that the first week I was walking around completely lost. I was lost without Jiyong. Lost without his witty comments. Lost without his crude remarks. Lost without his assurance and his confidence. Lost without the way he’d sometimes draw circles on my hand while holding it between his, the way he’d kiss me for no reason and smile at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I don’t want to be lost without him; I want to be strong. I want my days and nights to be just the same whether I’m alone or not. I’m beginning to suspect I may always be alone, as dramatic as the thought seems; I wasn’t happy with Noah, yet Jiyong and I didn’t work. Maybe I’m like my mother in that way. Maybe I’m better off alone.

I didn’t want it to be over this way, so cut-and-dried. I wanted to talk about everything, I wanted him to answer my calls so we could come to some sort of agreement. I just needed space, I needed a break from him to show him that I’m not his doormat. It backfired on me because he obviously doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. Maybe this was his plan all along: get me to break up with him. I’ve known a few girls who go that route when leaving their boyfriends.

During the first day I did expect a call, text, or hell, I really expected Jiyong to come bursting through the door screaming at the top of his lungs and causing a scene while his family and I sat in the dining room in silence, no one quite sure what to say to me. When that didn’t happen, I lost it. Not crying-in-the-corner, feeling-sorry-for-myself lost it. I mean I lost myself. Every second I lived in anticipation of Jiyong coming back to grovel for my forgiveness. I almost gave in that day. I almost went back to the apartment. I was ready to tell him to hell with marriage, I don’t care if he lies to me every day and doesn’t respect me, as long as he never leaves me. Thankfully, I snapped out of that and salvaged some respect for myself.

Day three was the worst. Day three was when the realization really began to hit me. Day three was when I finally spoke after three days of near silence, having only muttered a simple yes or no to Taeyang or Karen during their awkward attempts to engage me in conversation. The only sounds that actually came out were a strangled sob and a choppy explanation through tears of why my life would be better, easier, without him that even I didn’t believe. Day three was when I finally looked in the mirror at my dirty and bruised face, my eyes swollen to the point of barely opening. Day three was when I fell to the floor, finally praying to God to make the pain disappear. No one can handle this pain, I told Him. Not even me. Day three I called him, I couldn’t help myself. I told myself that if he answers we would work it out and both come to a compromise, apologizing profusely and promising to never leave each other again. Instead, I got his voicemail after two rings, proving that he rejected the call.

Day four, I slipped and called him again. This time he had the courtesy to let it ring to voicemail instead of pressing ignore. Day four was when I realized how much more I actually care for him than he does me. Day four was when I spent the entire day in bed reliving the few times he actually told me how he felt about me. I began to realize that most of our relationship and how I portrayed his feelings for me in my mind was just that . . . in my mind. I began to realize that while I was thinking we could do this, we could make this work forever, he wasn’t thinking about me at all.

That was the day I decide to join the ranks of normal teenagers and had Taeyang show me how to download music onto my phone. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Over one hundred songs were added, and headphones were put in my ears and barely removed for almost twenty-four hours. The music helps a lot. To hear about other people’s pain reminds me that I’m not the only one to suffer in life. I’m not the only one who loved someone who didn’t love them enough to fight for them.

Day five was when I finally showered and attempted to go to class. I went to yoga, hoping that I could handle the memories it would evoke. I felt strange walking around in a sea of cheery college students. I used all the energy I had in hoping that I wouldn’t run into Jiyong on campus. I was past the stage of wanting him to call. I managed to drink half of my coffee that morning, and Taeyang told me that the color was coming back into my cheeks. No one seemed to notice me, and that was exactly what I wanted. Professor Soto assigned us to write down our biggest fears when it comes to life and how they relate to faith and God. “Are you afraid to die?” he asked us. Aren’t I already dead? I answered silently.

Day six was a Tuesday. I began to speak in sentences, broken sentences that usually didn’t relate to the subject at hand, but no one had the heart to call me out on it. I returned to Vance. Kimberly couldn’t meet my eyes for the first part of the day, but she finally attempted to have a conversation, which I couldn’t bring myself to participate in. She mentioned a dinner, and I reminded myself to ask her again when I can think straight. The day was spent staring at the first page of a manuscript that, no matter how many times I read and reread it, wouldn’t soak in. I ate that day, more than just the rice or a banana I had in the days before. Karen made a ham—I only noticed because it reminded me that she made one for the dinner Jiyong and I had here in the beginning. The images from that night, the picture of him sitting next to me and holding my hand under the table, sent me back into my tragic state, making me spend the night in the bathroom vomiting up the small bit of food I had consumed.

As day seven dragged on I began to imagine what would happen if I didn’t have to feel this pain anymore. What if I just disappeared? The thought terrified me—not because of my death, but because my mind was capable of going to such a dark place. That thought snapped me out of my downward spiral and brought me to the closest thing to reality my mind can handle. I changed my shirt and vowed to never step foot in Jiyong’s bedroom again, no matter what happened. I began to look up apartments that I could afford close to Vance, and online classes at SCU. I enjoy academics too much to close myself off and take online classes, so I ultimately decided against it, but I found a few apartments to look into.

Day eight I smiled, briefly, but everyone noticed. Day eight was the first morning that I grabbed my usual donut and coffee when I arrived at Vance. I kept it down and even went back for more. I saw Trevor, who told me I looked beautiful despite my wrinkled clothes and hollow eyes. Day eight was the shift, day eight was the first day that only half of my time was spent wishing that things had gone differently between Jiyong and me. I heard Ken and Karen discussing Jiyong’s birthday in a few days, and I was surprised to only feel a slight burn in my chest at the sound of his name.

Day nine is today.

“I’ll be downstairs!” Taeyang calls through the door of “my” bedroom.

No one has even mentioned me leaving, or where I would go if I did. I’m grateful for it, but at the same time I know my presence will eventually be a burden. Taeyang keeps assuring me that I can stay as long as I need to, and Karen reminds me how much she enjoys my company multiple times a day. But at the end of the day, they’re Jiyong’s family. I want to make a move forward, decide where I should go and where I should live, and I’m no longer afraid.

I cannot, and refuse to, spend another day crying over a dishonest boy with tattoos who doesn’t love me anymore.

When I see Taeyang downstairs, he’s taking a large bite of a bagel; a dab of cream cheese rests in the corner of his mouth and his tongue darts out to retrieve it. “Morning.” He smiles, his cheek full and eyes wide.

“Morning,” I repeat and pour a glass of water.

He continues to stare at me while I sip my water. “What?” I finally ask him.

“You . . . well . . . you look great,” he says.

“Thank you. I decided to shower and come back from the dead,” I joke, and he smiles slowly as if he’s unsure about my mental state. “Really, it’s fine,” I assure him, and he takes another bite of his bagel, finishing it.

I decide to put one in the toaster for myself and try not to notice Taeyang staring at me like I’m an animal in a zoo.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I tell him after finishing my breakfast.

“ Y/N , you look so gorgeous today!” Karen exclaims when she enters the kitchen.

“Thank you.” I smile at her.

Today’s the first day that I’ve taken the time to get ready, really ready and presentable. The last eight days I have gone far away from my usual neat appearance. Today I feel like myself. My new self. My “After Jiyong” self. Day nine is my day.

“That dress is flattering.” Karen compliments me again.

The yellow dress that Trish got me for Christmas fits well and it’s very casual. I’m not going to make the same mistake as last time and attempt to wear heels to classes, so my Toms it is. Half of my hair is pinned back, with a few loose curls tapering over my face. My makeup is subtle, but I think it suits me well. My eyes burned slightly as I dragged the brown liner underneath my eye . . . makeup surely wasn’t on my list of priorities during my downward spiral.

“Thank you so much.” I smile again.

“Have a great day.” Karen smiles, clearly surprised but very pleased at my return to the real world.

This must be what it’s like to have a caring mother, someone to send you off to school with kind and encouraging words. Someone unlike my mother.

My mother . . . I have dodged all calls from her, and thankfully so. She was the last person I wanted to speak to, but now that I can breathe without wanting to rip my heart from my chest, I actually want to call her.

“Oh, Y/N , will you be riding with us to Christian’s house on Sunday?” Karen asks just as I reach the door.

“Sunday?”

“The dinner they’re having to celebrate their move to Seattle?” she tells me as if I should know this already. “Kimberly said she told you about it? If you don’t want to go, I know they’ll understand,” she assures me.

“No, no. I want to go. I’ll ride with you.” I smile. I am ready for this. I can be in public, in a social setting, without cracking. My subconscious is mute for the first time in nine days, and I thank her before following Taeyang outside.

The weather mirrors my mood, sunny and somewhat warm for the end of January. “Are you going on Sunday?” I ask him once we get in the car.

“No, I’m leaving tonight, remember?” he replies.

“What?”

He looks at me with a wrinkled brow. “I’m going to New York for the weekend. Dakota is moving into her apartment there. I told you a few days ago.”

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve paid more attention to you instead of making it all about me,” I tell him. I can’t believe how selfish I’ve been to not even pay attention to him telling me about Dakota’s move to New York.

“No, it’s okay. I only briefly mentioned it, anyway. I didn’t want to rub it in your face when you were . . . well, you know.”

“A zombie?” I finish for him.

“Yes, a very scary zombie,” he jokes, and I smile for the fifth time in nine days. It feels nice.

“When will you be back?” I ask Taeyang .

“Monday morning. I’ll miss Religion, but I’ll be there right after.”

“Wow, that’s exciting. New York will be incredible.” I would love to escape, to get out of here for a while.

“I was worried about going and leaving you here,” he tells me, and guilt fills me.

“Don’t be! You already do way too much for me; it’s time I do things for myself. I don’t want you to ever think about not doing something for yourself because of me. I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way,” I tell him.

“It’s not your fault, it’s his,” he reminds me, and I nod.

My headphones go back into my ears, and Taeyang smiles.

IN RELIGION, PROFESSOR SOTO chooses the subject of pain. For a moment I swear he’s done it on my behalf, to torture me, but when I begin to write about how pain can cause people to turn to or away from their faith and God, I’m thankful for this torture. My entry ends up being filled with thoughts about how pain can change you, how pain can make you much stronger, and in the end you don’t need faith as much. You need yourself. You need to be strong and not allow pain to push you or pull you into anything.

I end up going back to the coffeehouse before yoga to acquire more energy. On my way back to yoga I pass the environmental studies building and my mind goes to Seungri. I wonder if he’s in there now. I assume he is, but I don’t have a clue about his schedule.

Before I can overthink it, I go inside. I have a little time before my class begins, and it’s less than a five-minute walk from here.

I look around the large lobby of the building. Just like I might have expected, large trees fill most of the massive space. Sticking to the theme, the ceiling is mostly skylights, giving the illusion that it’s almost nonexistent.

“ Y/N ?”

I turn, and indeed, there is Seungri, wearing a lab coat and thick safety goggles on top of his head that push his hair back.

“Hey . . .” I say.

He smiles. “What are you doing in here? Did you change your major?”

I adore the way his tongue hides behind his teeth when he smiles, I always have. “I was looking for you, actually.”

“You were?” He seems astounded.

Jiyong POV

Nine days.

Nine days have gone by without speaking to Y/N . I didn’t think it was possible for me to go a single day without speaking to her, let alone nine fucking days. It feels like one thousand, and each hour is more painful than the last.

When she left the apartment that night, I waited and waited to hear her footsteps rush through the door, and I waited for her voice to begin screaming at me. It didn’t come. I sat on the floor waiting and waiting. It never came. She never came.

I finished the beer in my fridge and smashed the evidence against the wall. The next morning when I woke up and she was still gone, I packed my shit. I got on a plane to get the fuck out of Seoul. If she was going to come back, it would have been that night. I needed to get out of there and get some space. With alcohol on my breath and stains on my white T-shirt, I left for the airport. I didn’t call my mum before I got there; it’s not like she had anything going on anyway.

If Y/N calls me before I get on the flight, I’ll turn around. But if not, then too bad, I kept thinking. She had her chance to come back to me. She does every other time, no matter what I do, so why is this time so different? It’s not like I did anything, really; I lied to her, but it was a small-ass lie and she overreacted.

If anyone should be pissed off, it’s me. She brought Seungrito my fucking house. On top of that, Taeyang comes barging in like the fucking Hulk and slams me into the wall? What the actual fuck.

This whole situation is utterly fucked up and it’s not my fault. Well, maybe it is, but she can come crawling back to me, not the other way around. I love her, but I’m not making the first move.

Day one was spent mostly on the airplane sleeping off my hangover. I got many dirty looks from snobby-ass flight attendants and assholes in business suits, but I could give a fuck less. They don’t mean shit to me. I took a cab to my mum’s and nearly choked the driver. Who charges that much for a fucking ten-mile cab ride?

My mum was shocked and happy to see me. She cried for a few minutes, but thankfully she stopped when Mike appeared. Apparently the two of them have begun to move her things into his house, and she plans on selling hers. I don’t give a shit about that house, so it’s no skin off my back. That place is full of shit memories with my drunk asshole of a dad.

It’s nice to be able to think these things without Y/N’s influence. I would feel slightly guilty being rude to my mum and her boyfriend if Y/N were here with me.

So thank God she isn’t.

Day two was exhausting as shit. I spent the entire afternoon listening to my mum talk about her plans for the summer and dodged her questions about why I’m home. I kept telling her if I wanted to talk about it I would. I came here for some goddamn peace, and all I get is more annoyance. I ended up at the pub down the street by eight. A pretty brunette with the same color eyes as Y/N smiled at me and offered me a drink that night. I declined somewhat politely, my kindness only coming out because of the color of her eyes. The longer I stared at them, the more I realized they weren’t the same as Y/N ’s. They were dull and held no life behind them. Y/N’s eyes are the most intriguing shade of gray that appears blue at first glance, until you really look at them. They’re nice, as far as eyes go. Why the fuck am I sitting at a pub thinking about eyeballs? Fuck.

I saw the disappointment in my mum’s eyes when I stumbled through the door after two in the morning, but I did my best to ignore it, mumbling a shit apology before forcing my way up the stairs.

Day three was when it started. Small thoughts of Y/N kept sneaking in at the most random times. While watching my mum hand-wash the dishes, I thought of Y/N loading the dishwasher constantly, making sure there was never a single dirty dish lying in the sink.

“We’re going to the fair today. Would you like to come?” my mum asked.

“No.”

“Please, Jiyong , you’re here visiting, and you’ve barely spoken to me or spent any time with me.”

“No, Mum.” I dismiss her.

“I know why you’re here,” she said softly.

I slammed my cup down on the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

I knew she would catch on that I was running, hiding really, from reality. I’m not sure what type of reality there is without Y/N , but I’m not ready to deal with the shit, so why does she have to pester me about it? If Y/N doesn’t want to be with me, then to hell with her. I don’t need her—I am better off alone, the way I had planned to be all along.

Seconds later my phone rang, but I ignored the call as soon as I saw her name. Why did she call me? To tell me she hates me or she needs her name off the lease, I was sure.

Goddammit, Jiyong, why did you do that? I kept asking myself. I didn’t have a good enough answer.

Day four began the worst way possible.

“ Jiyong , go upstairs!” she’s begging. No, not this again. One of the men slaps her across her face and she looks at the staircase; her eyes meet mine and I scream. Y/N .

“ Jiyong! Wake up, Jiyong ! Please wake up!” my mum screamed and shook me awake.

“Where is she? Where’s Y/N ?” I choked, sweat soaking my skin.

“She isn’t here, Jiyong .”

“But they . . .” It took me a moment to collect my thoughts and realize it was only a nightmare. The same nightmare I’ve had my entire life, only this time it was so much worse. My mother’s face was replaced with Y/N’s.

“Shhh . . . it’s okay. It was only a dream.” My mum cried and tried to hug me, but I gently pushed her arms back.

“No, I’m fine,” I assured her and told her to leave me alone.

I lay awake for the rest of the night trying to get the image out of my head, but I couldn’t.

Day four continued just as it started. My mum ignored me all day, which I thought I would want but it turned out I was sort of . . . lonely. I began to miss Y/N. I kept finding myself looking next to me to talk to her, to wait for her to say something that was sure to make me smile. I wanted to call her, my finger traced over that green button over one hundred times, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I can’t give her what she wants, and that isn’t going to be good enough for her. It’s better this way. I spent the afternoon looking up how much it would cost me to move my shit back here to England. This is where I’m going to end up anyway, so I might as well get it over with.

We would never work, Y/N and me. I always knew we wouldn’t last. We couldn’t. It wasn’t possible for us to be together always. She’s too damn good for me and I know it. Everyone knows it. I see the way people turn to stare at us everywhere we go, and I know they’re wondering why that beautiful girl is with me.

I had been staring at my phone while downing a half bottle of whiskey for hours before I turned off the light and fell asleep. I thought I heard the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand, but I was too drunk to sit up and answer. The nightmare came again; this time Y/N’s nightgown was soaked in blood and she cried for me to go away, to leave her there on that couch.

Day five I woke up to a flashing red light on my phone indicating that yet again I’d missed her call, only this time it wasn’t intentional. Day five was when I stared at her name on the screen before looking at picture after picture of her. When did I take so many? I hadn’t realized how many pictures I had snapped without her paying any mind.

While looking through the pictures, I kept remembering the way her voice sounds. I never liked American accents—they bore me and they’re annoying—but Y/N’s voice is perfect. Her accent is perfect, and I could listen to her speak all day, every single day. Will I ever hear her voice again?

This one’s my favorite, I thought at least ten times while looking through the photos. I finally settled on a picture of her lying on her stomach on the bed, her legs crossed in the air and her hair down, tucked behind her ear. She had her chin resting on one of her hands and her lips slightly parted as she took in the words in front of her on the screen of her e-reader. I snapped the picture the moment she caught me staring, the exact moment that a smile, the most beautiful smile, appeared on her face. She looked so happy to be looking at me in this picture. Does . . . well, did she always look at me that way?

That day, day five, was when the weight appeared on my chest. A constant reminder of what I’d done, and most likely lost. I should have called her that day while staring at her pictures. Did she stare at my pictures? She only has one to this day, and ironically I found myself wishing I’d have allowed her to take more. Day five was when I threw my phone against the wall in hopes of smashing it, but only cracked the screen. Day five was when I desperately wished she would call me. If she called me, then it would be okay, everything would be okay. We’d both apologize and I’d go home. If she was the one to call me, then I wouldn’t feel guilty for coming back into her life. I wondered if she was feeling the same way I was. Was every day getting harder for her? Did every second without me make it harder for her to breathe?

I began to lose my appetite that day. I just wasn’t hungry. I missed her cooking, even the simple meals that she would make for me. Hell, I missed watching her eat. I missed every goddamn thing about that infuriating girl with kind eyes. Day five was when I finally broke down. I cried like a bitch and didn’t even feel bad about it. I cried and cried. I couldn’t stop. I tried desperately, but she wouldn’t leave my mind. She wouldn’t leave me alone; she kept appearing, she kept saying she loved me, and she kept hugging me, and when I realized it was my imagination, I cried again.

Day six I woke with swollen and bloodshot eyes. I couldn’t believe the way I’d broken down the previous night. The weight on my chest had magnified, and I could barely see straight. Why was I such a fuckup? Why did I continue to treat her like shit? She’s the first person who has ever been able to see me, inside of me, the real me, and I treated her like shit. I blamed her for everything, when in reality it was me. It was always me—even when I didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong, I was. I was rude to her when she tried to talk to me about things. I yelled at her when she called me out on my bullshit. And I lied to her repeatedly. She has forgiven me for everything, always. I could always count on that, and maybe that’s why I treated her the way I did, because I knew I could. I smashed my phone under my boot on day six. I went half the day without eating. My mum offered me oatmeal, but when I tried to force myself to eat it, it nearly came back up. I hadn’t showered since day three, and I was a fucking wreck. I tried to listen as my mum told me the few things she needed me to get from the store, but I couldn’t hear her. All I could think of was Y/N and her need to go to Conner’s at least five days a week.

Y/N once told me I ruined her. Now, as I sit here trying to focus, trying to just catch my breath, I know that she was wrong. She ruined me. She got inside me and fucked me up. I had spent years building those walls—my entire life, really—and here she came in and tore them down, leaving me with nothing but rubble.

“Did you hear me, Jiyong ? I made a small list in case you didn’t,” my mum said, handing me the frilly piece of stationery.

“Yes.” My voice was barely audible.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I stood up and tucked the list into my dirty jeans.

“I heard you last night, Jiyong , if you want to—”

“Don’t, Mum. Please don’t.” I nearly choked on my words. My mouth was so dry and my throat was aching.

“Okay.” Her eyes were full of sadness as I walked out of the house to head to the store just down the road.

The list only consisted of a few items, yet I couldn’t remember any of them without digging the damn paper out of my pocket. I managed to corral the few things: bread, jam, coffee beans, and some fruit. Looking at all the food in the store made my empty stomach turn. I took an apple for myself and began to force myself to eat it. It tasted like cardboard, and I could feel the small pieces hitting the pit of my stomach as I paid the elderly woman at the cash register.

I walked outside and it began to snow. The snow made me think of her, too. Everything made me think of her. My head was aching with a headache that refused to go away. I rubbed my fingers over my temples with my free hand and crossed the street.

“ Jiyong ? Kwon Jiyong?” a voice called from the other side of the street. No. It couldn’t be.

“Is that you?” she asked again.

Natalie.

This couldn’t be happening, I kept thinking as she walked toward me with her hands full of shopping bags.

“Erm . . . hey,” was all I could say, my mind frantic, my palms already beginning to sweat.

“I thought you moved?” she asked.

Her eyes were bright, not lifeless like I remembered as she cried and begged for me to let her stay at my house when she had nowhere to go.

“I did . . . I’m only visiting,” I told her, and she set her bags on the sidewalk.

“Well, that’s good.” She smiled.

How could she be smiling at me after what I had done to her?

“Uh . . . yeah. How are you?” I forced myself to ask the girl whose life I ruined.

“I’m good, really good,” she chirped and ran her hands over her swollen belly.

Swollen belly? Oh God. No, wait . . . the time line didn’t add up. Holy shit, that scared me for a second.

“You’re pregnant?” I asked, hoping that she was so I hadn’t just insulted her.

“Yeah, six months along. And engaged!” She smiled again, holding her small hand up to show me a gold ring on her finger.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?” She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and looked into my eyes, which were circled with blue rings from lack of sleep.

Her voice was so sweet that it made me feel a thousand times worse. I couldn’t stop picturing her face as she caught all of us watching her on the small screen. She’d screamed, literally screamed, and ran from the room. I didn’t follow her, of course. I just laughed at her, laughed at her humiliation and her pain.

“I’m really sorry,” I blurted. It was strange, weird, and necessary. I expected her to call me names, to tell me how fucked up of a person I am, to punch me, even.

What I didn’t expect was for her to wrap her arms around me and tell me she forgave me.

“How can you forgive me? I was so fucked up. I ruined your life,” I said; my eyes were burning.

“No, you didn’t. Well, you did at first, but in a way, it all worked out in the end,” she said, and I nearly vomited on her green sweater.

“What?”

“After you . . . well, you know . . . I had nowhere to go, so I found a church, a new church since mine exiled me, and that’s where I met Elijah.” Her face instantly lit up at the mention of his name.

“And now here we are nearly three years later, engaged and expecting. Everything happens for a reason, I guess? Sounds cheesy, huh?” She giggled.

The sound reminded me that she was always such a sweet girl. I just hadn’t given a shit; her kindness made it easier to prey on her.

“I suppose it does, but I’m really glad you found someone. I’ve been thinking about you lately . . . you know . . . what I did, and I felt like shit about it. I know you’re happy now, but that doesn’t excuse what I did to you. It wasn’t until Y/N that I—” I cut myself off.

A little smile tweaked her lips. “ Y/N ?”

I nearly passed out from the pain. “She’s, um . . . well . . . she’s . . .” I stutter.

“She’s what? Your wife?” Natalie’s words cut straight to the core as her eyes searched my fingers for a band.

“No, she was . . . she was my girlfriend.”

“Oh. So you date now?” she half teased; she could sense my pain, I was sure.

“No . . . well, only her.”

“I see. And now she’s not your girlfriend anymore?”

“Nope.” I brought my fingers to my lip ring.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope things work out for you, the way they have for me,” she said.

“Thank you. Congratulations on the engagement and . . . baby,” I said uncomfortably.

“Thank you! We expect to marry this summer.”

“So soon?”

“Well, we’ve been engaged for two years.” She laughed.

“Wow.”

“It was fast, soon after we met,” Natalie explained.

I felt like an asshole as soon as the words left my mouth, but I asked: “Aren’t you too young?”

But she just smiled. “I’m nearly twenty-one, and it doesn’t make sense to wait. I’ve been fortunate enough to find the person I want to spend my life with at a young age—why waste any more time when he’s right in front of me asking that I do just that. I’m honored that he wants to make me his wife; there’s no greater expression of love than that.” As she explained, I could hear Y/N’s voice saying the words instead.

“I guess you’re right,” I told her and she smiled.

“Oh, there he is! I have to go—I’m freezing and pregnant, not a good combination.” She laughed before picking her bags up off the sidewalk and greeting a man in a sweater vest and khakis. His smile when seeing his pregnant fiancée was so bright that I swore it lit up that dreary day in England.

Day seven was long. Every day has been long. I kept thinking of Natalie and her forgiveness; it couldn’t have come at a better time. Sure, I looked like hell and she knew it, but she was happy and in love. Pregnant, at that. I didn’t ruin her life the way I thought I had.

And I thank God for that.

I spent the whole day in bed. I couldn’t even bring myself to open the damned blinds. My mum and Mike were out all day, so I was left alone to sulk in my misery. Each day got worse. I constantly thought about what she was doing, who she was with. Was she crying? Was she lonely? Had she returned to our apartment to find me? Why hadn’t she called me again?

This isn’t the pain I had read about in novels. This pain isn’t just in my mind, this pain isn’t physical. This is a soul-aching pain, something that is ripping me apart from the inside out, and I don’t think I can survive it. No one could.

This must be how Y/N feels when I hurt her. I can’t imagine her fragile body withstanding this type of pain, but clearly she’s stronger than she appears. She has to be to put up with me. Her mum once told me that if I really cared about her I would leave her alone; I would hurt her anyway, she said.

She was right. I should have left her alone then. I should have left her alone from that first day she walked into that dorm room. I promised myself that I would rather die than hurt her again . . . this is what this is. This is dying, this is worse than dying. It hurts worse. It has to.

I spent day eight drinking, the entire day. I couldn’t stop. With each drink I prayed that her face would leave my mind, but it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

You have to get your shit together, Jiyong . You have to. I have to. I really do.

“ Jiyong . . .” Y/N ’s voice sends chills down my spine.

“Babe . . .” she says.

When I look up at her, she’s sitting on my mum’s couch with a smile on her face and a book in her lap.

“Come here, please,” she whines as the door opens and a group of men step inside. No.

“There she is,” says the short man who torments my dreams each night.

“ Jiyong ?” Y/N begins to cry.

“Get away from her,” I warn them as they close in on her. They don’t seem to hear me.

Her nightgown is ripped off as she’s thrown to the floor. Wrinkled and dirt-stained hands travel up her thighs as she whimpers my name.

“Please . . . Jiyong , help me.” She looks to me, but I’m frozen.

I am immobile and unable to help her. I am forced to watch as they beat her and violate her until she’s lying on the floor silent and bloodied.

My mum didn’t wake me, no one did. I had to finish it, all of it, and when I woke up my reality was worse than any nightmare.

DAY NINE is today.

“Did you hear about Christian Vance moving to Seattle?” my mum asks me as I push the cereal around the bowl in front of me.

“Yeah.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it? A new branch in Seattle.”

“I suppose it is.”

“He’s having a dinner party on Sunday. He thought you’d be there.”

“How do you know?” I ask her.

“He told me, we talk from time to time.” She looks away and refills her coffee mug.

“What for?”

“Because we can—now eat your cereal.” She scolds me like a child, but I don’t have the energy to come up with a snappy remark.

“I don’t want to go,” I tell her and force the spoon to my mouth.

“You may not see him again for a while.”

“So? I barely see him now anyway.”

She looks as if she has something else to say, but she keeps quiet.

“Have you got any aspirin?” I ask, and she nods before disappearing to retrieve some.

I don’t want to go to a stupid fucking dinner party celebrating Christian and Kimberly leaving for Seattle. I’m tired of everyone always talking about Seattle, and I know Y/N will be there. The pain at the idea of seeing her tackles me and nearly knocks me out of the chair. I have to stay away from her, I owe it to her. If I can stay here for a few more days, weeks even, we can both move on. She’ll find someone like Natalie’s fiancé, someone much better for her than me.

“I still think you should go,” my mum says again as I swallow the aspirin, knowing they won’t help.

“I can’t go, Mum . . . even if I wanted to. I would have to leave first thing in the morning and I’m not ready to leave.”

“You mean you aren’t ready to face what you left,” she says.

I can’t hold it in any longer. I bury my face in my hands as I let the pain take over, I let it drown me. I welcome it, and hope it kills me.

“ Jiyong . . .” My mum’s voice is quiet and comforting as she hugs me and I shake in her arms.

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elishebe · 5 years

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Sasuhina Secret Santa-Vampire AU

A/N: God I’m atrociously late, and excuses are trash, but I literally didn’t save my work when I damn near finished this last week, and I just...had to recover from that trauma and try to write it again lol. It’s honestly not as great as it would be if I weren’t so upset with myself for losing all the work and trying emulate it again, but I tried my best! Super sore again, Hope you like @fher43

-btw Hinata’s slighty ooc just because...i feel like six hundred plus years of vampirism does that to a person lol.

:: There’s something about the ripeness of age... ::

Unoriginal. Cheap. Cliche.

A birthday gift for his mother absolutely had to be authentic and well-thought out. She might appreciate anything she received, but she could smell things like cheap and overdone.

But Sasuke’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel any hope this antique shop he stumbled upon. It was dingy in all the right ways, and he was the only customer in. A turn around each corner and something ancient and beautiful would appear eclipising the last item he’d seen.

And then he turned another corner, the shopkeeper standing right before him.

Mismatched, Sasuke thought. Completely and utterly.

From the deep, velvet maroon of her lip, to the smokey obsidian modeling the edges of her eye with a blackish cardinal pigment dusting from eyelid to brow bone--well--Sasuke was no stranger to heuristics or falling prey to stereotypes himself. Thus he was good of watching himself, and looking at her darkly themed makeup, which he was indeed a fan of, decided it was just her interest and mood, not her personality entirely.

Even the hair he could reconcile as just...another thing, he supposed. Blue, though dark. Smalt, even. It fell down around her--bone straight, obedient--like a stream, and her long bangs acting as a curtain parted along the sides of her trim face for the main act as pearlescent orbs descended upon his shirt.

But that small bat tattoo right below the eye...well it was hard to think her anything other than what he believed upon seeing it.

So-

That angelically soft smile had caught him off his guard.

“Theatre of Tragedy?” She asked with a glance at his shirt, cup in hand, looking away as she pulled at spine backs of books.

Sasuke stared at the woman from down the aisle, mindlessly approaching her. She sorted through some large books, and with one hand, before picking one up with a graceful ease.

“Venus is my favorite song right now.” She remarked, pleasantry on her lips, as she turned to him; glassy lavender eyes were like white against her eyeshadow. “What about you?”

Sasuke blinked. “Uh...And When He Falleth.”

Her visage warped with a thoughtfulness, nodding. “Yeah, I like that one too.” Her eyes were trained on the book, trying to place it properly. “They’re a bit old school. I’m surprised to see such a young fan.”

He tilted his head slightly. Young? He wanted to ask. She didn’t look much older than him, if at all. He could pin her three years older than him at most, and the band would still be considered ahead of her time too.

Sasuke poked his head in an victorian-themed wardrobe. “Yeah I’m...into old shit...I guess.”

He didn’t miss the way her lips twitched at that. Without looking up the woman replied,”That explains why you’re here I guess.”

The raven haired man nodded. “That explains why I’m here-well, uh-”He paused. That wasn’t true, well it was true, but-

“I’m looking for a present.” He elaborated. She took a sip from her cup and gave him her full attention.

“You work here?” Sasuke asked, lamely, might he add as if it weren’t obvious.

The woman peaked at him through long bangs, a smile at her lips, and something wistful behind i

“I own here.” She answered, “But my apologies. I should’ve introduced myself. My name is Hinata. I’m the owner and dealer of this shop.”

She was sort of...very pretty, he quickly noted, maybe too quickly. But further than that, although she looked no older than him, something about her did rightfully belong in this small antiques store. He just...couldn’t name it.

“What’s the present for?” She asked.

After explaining his predicament, Sasuke found himself following behind a magical creature. The store was somewhat cramped, and he had to shift and duck a few times making for some disjointed steps, but the woman before him was like...a floating gothic sheet of clouds hung low to the ground. Her movements were subtle and graceful. Her black lace cover up flowed behind her in an intriguing and dramatic way.

As he trailed behind her, he put his hands on some knives for the sake of it, and called ahead of her, “How did you get into Theatre of Tragedy?”

“I’ve been around.” She answered.

Sasuke glanced down at her. “So what?”

She looked him up and down once before turning around a counter to open a cupboard. “Means I’m an old soul. So I guess I also...am into ‘old shit’.” She mocked.

Sasuke smirked at her mockery leaning against the counter. “Old soul...” He mumbled. “how old?”

She hefted a large box onto the counter. “686 years to be exact.”

The dark haired male belted a low chuckle.

“Here,” She said to him opening the box with an assortment of jewelry. “It’s a 19th century French and Japanese collection. I especially like the brooches; they’re designs are more reflective of the era. See anything your mother might like?”

“You, probably.” He responded ignorant of the subtext behind it. Though it was very true his mother loved individuals with a fascination and knowledge of things she knew little about. And considering the expanse of this shop, there was much this woman could talk his mother’s ear off about.

He looked up at her to find her fighting a laugh, with a shake of the head. He felt a warmth rise to his face.

“Oh, I...I didn’t-I wasn’t trying to...”

“Flirt.” She finished for him, understanding look in her eyes, but teasing smile about her lips.

“Yeah...not that I wouldn’t. I mean-” He said opting to look at the brooches rather than her amused face. “I just, like...these are really nice.”

Hinata had surrendered to her giggles, and Sasuke tried to brush it off as he rubbed his neck, sighing at his own failing.

“I’m so sorry for laughing,” Hinata apologized holding her stomach in between fits of laughter.

Sasuke smirked. “It’s fine.” He peeled the black and red one from the box. “I think I’ll take this one.”

A Week Later

“Witch?”

“Nope.”

“Sorcerer, wizard, warlock?”

“Those aren’t all the same as witch?”

“I don’t know I’m asking you, Not-Witch.”

“I don’t know. But, still wrong.” Hinata replied dusting the wooden, creaky floor.

Sasuke sat in her chair at the counter, playing with an old toy staring at her all the while. He’d came back the day after he got the present. Though it was simply because he didn’t get a good look at the whole shop, and that was it, he supposed. While the shop itself was tiny, there was much to see, and in the meanwhile, he had a wildly likable and likely magical witch (or rather not-witch) for a personal tour guide. Extremely personal, he hardly ever saw anyone in here but himself.

In the midst of it their proximity, Sasuke had become more and more certain of her magical not-witchery. She moved like water, didn’t have a door bell to know when people come in, but somehow always knew he had arrived, and

she knew everything.

“Mmm, nymph? Fairy?”

She shook her head, but then wore a pondering look. “I do know a nymph actually. You have one more try. I’ll even give you a hint: remember how old I told you my soul is?” Hinata looked at him with amusement; she was sure he was being funny.

“No.” He deadpanned.

Hinata turned around chuckle jostling her shoulders.“Be careful with this next one or I win.”

Sasuke squinted at her, and leaned over the counter.

“Werewolf.”

Hinata cocked her head in laughter. “You must be teasing me now. I told you I have a cat, right?”

“Nah, I definitely told you I have a cat.” Sasuke retorted slumping his chin into his arms. “I’m a bad remembererrer-er.”

“Without a doubt.”

Sasuke folded his arms together. “So what are you, Hyuga?”

“An antiques dealer,” replied she. She stopped sweeping to look at him. “And what are you, Uchiha?”

He looked thoughtful a second.

“Charming.”

She leaned into her broomstick as she heaved an amused sigh. Sasuke stared intently. He liked making her smile.

“You sure you’re not a witch? Got the whole broom stick thing-”

“No.”

Two Weeks after first walk in

“So why do you persist to congest my store further?”

Sasuke scoffed lightly. “Congest?” He asked looking around the store, devoid of other customers. “I’m practically keeping you business.”

“I believe the key word is ‘practically’. In order for that to be remotely true, Sasuke, you’d have to buy something; not loiter all day. You must find me very entreating if you insist on continuing to come without purchasing a single thing,” She ended with a smirk.

Sasuke rejected the rather obvious notion. “It’s not because of you,” He grumbled, sliding a long spined book out of its place to open it. “I’m here for the books, I’m here for..” He squinted. “Paradise Lost.”He held up the book in hand at her. “A true classic,” He urged.

Hinata stood staring, unconvinced, but always in the mood to entertain him. “You sound very familiar.”

“That’s what happens when you read books, I guess. You know them...” He trailed off as his eyes caught sight of another title, one he actually knew.

Hinata huffed. “You’re starting to sound like....” She trailed off as she saw him towering over the glass encasement of another one of her rare editions of old literature.

“See a read you like? One you actually know?” She teased.

Sasuke crossed his arms. “In addition to, actually,” He said, evoking a defeated sigh from her.

“I know this one--The Witch’s Hammer. It was hard to get my hands on a hardcover copy of it. But this one looks...extremely old. Like something of a museum.”

“That’s because it’s a first edition. An original copy.”

She observed him quietly, watching as his eyes wanted over the glass, seemingly entranced by the ancientness about it. It was a grey brown old thing, but she learned how to preserve it, to a point that she could even pick it up to read herself from time to time.

“Hn,” He grunted before unlatching himself from the glass. “Guess you are a grandma.”

Hinata gave him a pointed look. “Nice,” She said, sardonic taste about her reply.

“How much?”

“Not for sale. You’re welcome to look always. That’s not a privilege I give to all customers.”

Sasuke looked around himself. “Do you have like...ghosts for customers? Because who...else..is here besides me.”

The pleasantry in her eyes didn’t fade. “That’s for me to know.”

Sasuke’s lips parted, and closed, as he struggled to decipher the seriousness of that statement. He settled with a defeated nod, and “Okay.”, before pressing on.

“But...can I look at it?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You are.”

“With my hands.”

“Didn’t know that was possible,” She admitted, as she rounded the corner to the encasement.

“You know what I mean.”

“Your faith in my understanding of you is impressive,” She remarked unlocking the glass door. She grabbed the book carefully from its closure. “I wouldn’t usually do this, but for such a loyal ‘customer’--and I use that term loosely-- I’ll make an exception.”

She laid it out in her arms for him to take. “It’s still pretty sturdy, I’ve done well to maintain it--it might even be in better condition than some of the non-encased books here; that’s how much I like it. But, I’ll lend it to you.”

Sasuke grabbed the large heavy book from her arms and examined its exterior before tucking it away under his arm.

“Thank you.”

She nodded to him. “Glad something here genuinely grabs your interest.”

Though of course, for him, something already had.

A month after first walk in

“Walk in front of it. I wanna see.”

She smirked. “See what?”

“Just...go. I wanna see.”

Hinata put down her coffee cup, and walked in front of the mirror.

“I can see you,” Sasuke noted.

Hint nodded slowly. “Nothing gets past you, Sasuke,” She said with a straight face walking back to her stool.

Sasuke scoffed. “You know what I meant. How come I can see a vampire in a mirror?”

“Because. This is a mirror. It reflects things. Images.”

Hinata smiled. He was all but pouting now-it was cute.

“So that old rumor is just wrong, plainly.” Sasuke said folding his arms.

Hinata smiled looking at him through the mirror. He was significantly taller, though somewhat lanky, and she did appear, at least, to be his age. His attire was black and ripped from the denim jacket to the jeans. The fine contrast of jet black hair to his skin was impossible to miss.

The young Uchiha might’ve caught her eye half a millennium ago, but the wafting charm that seemed irresistable to everyone around fell flat on the ageless woman. Though this did nothing to diminish her fondness for the boy; however,

to her, he was just that: a boy.

Crash!

She turned to find Sasuke quickly but gracelessly trying to pick up the metallic vase up off the floor, which he’d clearly dropped. She watched him with quiet humor about her eyes.

He must’ve been staring too hard again...

Three months After first walk in

“How much blood do you drink?”

Hinata paused at that question. She knew he’d come to ask about the blood eventually. Although, it was rarely how much, rather than what, how, or how often.

“Enough.” She answered.

“where do you get it from?”

Hinata flipped another page to her book. “I have a friend at the blood bank, but occasionally animals.”

“Can I see your fangs?”

“Absolutely not.”

Sasuke looked at her strangely. “Is it like...offensive?”

She looked over to him. “Imagine I asked you to pull your pants down.”

Sasuke blinked a moment, uncertain before looking back to her. “I mean...I’d do it.”

Oh brother.

Five years after first walk in

“So, how was she?”

Sasuke stretched himself out on the chair as Hinata paused her sweeping. She looked over at him excitedly.

“She’s nice. Cute too.”

Hinata turned to him with optimism glint about her eyes. “So your date was...”

“Insufferable,” He answered.

Hinata looked to him, pitiful smile. “How so?”

“i don’t like her.”

Hinata put her broom down to refill her tea. “You just met her. Never took you for a ‘love-at-first-sight type’.”

“Yeah, don’t have much patience for anything less I guess.”

He saw her shaking her head as she poured her tea. “I’m just kidding.”

“I’d hope.” She encouraged, a smile in her voice.

“...give me five years. I’ll know.”

Twenty years after first walk in

She heard the door open and close from the back of the store, pleasantly surprised at the smell of her “customer”, whom had bought only one thing in all these years of dropping by.

He’d been visiting a lot less frequently. In fact it’d been a handful of years, if not more, since he last had come, but before then, he’d come at least biweekly, and before then, multiple times a week, if not even everyday.

Maybe she was exaggerating.

She didn’t usually keep such close track of time.

Even still, he did visit less often these days, and by a sweet twist of irony, she wanted to see him more often these days, much more often.

Though, maybe she just missed him.

She figured maybe he’d grown busy, other parts of her even thought bored. The former would make more sense though, considering his current presence. Whatever the case, she thought, setting down her broomstick to twirl around to him, she was glad he found his way-

Well.

She cleared her throat, trying to rid of her face the contorted expression she knew she might be wearing.

But she just...forgot what time could do to a person.

When she thought or remembered Sasuke, she remembered him young. Not thirty-five. certainly not forty-some odd years either. She’d forgotten, that he was no longer twenty. That he’d grown in the span of their friendship, and that he was human, and that time was an arguably real thing for him.

His face was exactly the same, only, not quite. He wore a more...eloquent expression. Eyebrows just slightly pinched, that she remembered, but with an adult concern that she couldn’t. There, just the slightest wrinkle at the side of his pitiless black eyes and his mouth had creases beside it, and his cheeks were slightly sunken. His hair had grown, thrown back with a few black threads rebelling onto his face against the rest with whiskered greys at the side. His build had widened in muscle, but his posture carried that common burden of adulthood. And...gone was the rebellious aesthetic: he wore a black button down shirt with some grey office slacks and dress shoes.

He wasn’t so different from last she saw him, but twenty years prior kept breaking her thoughts, and she thought maybe this was a different person. It couldn’t be helped, a younger Sasuke had came around more, spoken to her more, annoyed her more, was more familiar.

This older Sasuke was infrequent and inconsistent...and adult.

Looking around playfully, the man then turned back to her,”I’m here for the books...’Lost in paradise’, in particular.”

Hinata smiled. “I have no books of that name here, but Paradise Lost, yes, that I can do.”

“Damn.” Sasuke’s lips had twitched. “It’s been a while since I’ve picked it up for a reread.”

“Maybe if you had bothered to buy it, you’d know its name.” She responded.

He chuckled with heaviness about his voice, she wasn’t familiar. “But then I’d have no excuse to come back here, and look at other things I won’t buy.”

She observed him quietly as he rounded the corners of the store, attention captured by the subtle differences that age had committed against his mannerisms.

“So that’s the reason.”

“Hn,” He huffed before returning his attention to her with a small smile. “It’s been some time.”

The vampire offered a light shrug. “It’s been about a month, on my timeline. No worries.”

Sasuke carefully pulled at the straight of his pant legs before settling himself slowly in his regular old stool. “It’s been too long on mine.”

How strange, a troublesome thought had perverted her mind. Her heart only beat a couple times per day, and when it did, rather mundanely so. This time, however...it was like a ricochet, and strong like...it was alive.

She inhaled deeply, sweeping her store as she routinely had been for the past century.

“I’ll assume I’m still welcome to overstay it.” His face was placid like usual, but that wink was new.

Hinata watched him with her back turned, more mindful of his movements, evaluating the similarity of then and now. even six years ago when he’d last been, Hinata had begun to take note of the waves of adulthood ushering over him. A little less awkward, slightly more tense, equally as charismatic, which netted to zero. Maybe even richer, too. Though, that she had no interest in.

“How old are you now?” she asked.

The raven haired male paused in between flipping through Paradise Lost--he picked up the same exact copy every time. Black orbs darted to her, they seemed more intense than before.

“That’s the first time you’ve asked me that,” He remarked.

“Now can be your first time to answer.”

“It’s offensive to ask we human adults things like that you know?” He said, a mischievous glint about his eyes.

“Really? I hear it’s only rude if you’re old.”

“I’m forty-two,” He replied, with a quickness about it that made her laugh. He went to looking back to the book. “For some reason I assumed you’d always known. But why do you ask?”

Hinata resumed her sweeping with a joke on her lips, “And you were a mere, what? Seventeen, sixteen--when you first walked in here?”

Sasuke’s eyes found her. “I was about to be twenty. Jesus. That’s how annoying I was?”

She laughed at his bewilderment. “It was endearing.”

“God, save your pity.”

Pausing her chore, she looked to him. “So how’s life? How is Sakura?”

A coldness befell him, that she wasn’t expecting.

“Our wedding was beautiful,” He started. She blinked; he’d gotten married to her? “But our divorce really takes the cake I’d say.”

Hinata dusted the inside of a wardrobe. “I...I’m sorry to hear that,” She was, but her mind was skidding a little. He’d gotten married? And she knew nothing of it? She was almost sure ten plus years of friendship just might earn one a wedding invitation. Though she withheld any selfish thoughts or ideas--they’d been estranged for some time, after all.

“I’m not. Christ, I’m never marrying anyone for my mother’s sake again.”

She chuckled lightly as she retreated to her side of the counter, to finish her cup of tea, and watched him quietly. She couldn’t help but study this new Sasuke. It really did feel like such short time ago when he was full faced and somewhat cheeky and quick to retort.

“You got married...when?”

He sighed. “About a year and half after I stopped coming here. Finalized that divorce a couple months ago.”

Sasuke never missed those eyes when they were trained on him. Mainly because it wasn’t often that she actually did look at him. She’d usually be in her duties or already know what he was doing without turning to him; he supposed he never had a good excuse to be seen by her. Though now, she was being rather overt.

“I must look extremely odd to you, if time flies the way it does for you.”

He watched her take a sip from her tea, lavender eyes--starkly illuminated by that dark eye makeup--still glued to him even from behind her cup, and an imperceivable emotion behind them.

“Mhm,” She agreed setting her mug down. “You’ve grown, Sasuke.”

He blinked slowly down at the counter, unsure of how to respond to that--he felt like it’s something his relatives would say to him twenty some odd years ago, not an antiques dealer he can’t seem to leave alone.

He huffed. “Tryna call me old now?”

She joked, “Aren’t you?”

“Nah.”

Her face was telling, and she was, in a word, unconvinced.

His eyes challenged hers, before moving his leg out from under the counter. “I’m gonna extend my knee. If you don’t hear anything, I’m young as can be.”

“Is that a fair risk for your joints?”

She saw his leg twitch, but his eyes didn’t waiver.

He hesitated.“No,” He replied breaking into a smile. “Yeah it’s true. I’m old as shit.”

“Welcome to the club, my friend.”

A week later

Infatuated...She didn’t quite like that word. No, it wasn’t fitting. Maybe she was just being particular about the whole thing...she hadn’t felt like this for a long time. She’d never been so...

smitten--that’s the word.

She didn’t remember the last time she’d been so smitten on a human.

More conversely, she didn’t remember the last time she’d been this smitten without an ounce of reciprocation.

The new Sasuke had grown to be a stone wall, save for the occasional sarcastic comments; but with respect to her affection, everything seemed to be falling flat. He was ignorant of everything she threw to him.

She reached behind the counter, embarrassed almost, but mostly proud. Though still, she’s never had to...be so obvious.

She subtly turned from her book, to see his nose trapped in one as well--he was a bit quieter than he used to be.

“Sasuke, I have something for you.”

He looked away from his book to meet her gaze. Hinata plopped the plant on the counter.

“It’s a piece of my garden--my tomato garden. I remember you’ve always liked when I brought them, so you can have some of it for yourself. If you want, of course. I don’t mind taking it back home,” Hinata explained.

His smile was ear to ear. “I...thought I smelled something earthy, but I was not expecting this.” He got up out his chair. “This is kind of-wow. Thank you.”

She crossed her arms satisifed at his reaction. “So, do you think you’ll need any help planting it?”

He shook his head, looking it over. “Nah...but if worse comes to worse, I’ll look up a video. And if worse actually comes to worse, I’ll...probably call my mother for a tip or two.”

Hinata nodded at him. “Okay, well I’m free to help as well.”

Sasuke huffed, amused. “Even my back can handle a simple planting job like this one on my own.”

Smiling softly, she concede with a nod of the head, ignoring her growing plight. This may be more cause for trouble than she hoped.

Two weeks later

She had always seemed older to him. Even now, when she looked how she did, she gave off an air of wisdom and certainty that could rival the physical laws of nature. But it was extra weird now because he looked older than her, and sort of did feel like it, but things were still uncertain to him. He honestly just didn’t like how it felt being attracted to someone who looked, that young...maybe even just a couple years short of being his kid, but was simultaneously old enough to make his own intellect cower.

Sasuke glanced over at her, balancing his weight on the back legs of the chair.

“What is that?” He asked, referring to the book which seemingly captured all of her attention.

She hardly looked up. “Conjuring ways to seduce you.”

Shock. Then confusion, crashed onto his eyebrows.

And fixed his seat, slamming it to the floor. “Wh...I...that’s not even wha-”

“I know.” Hinata muttered. He might’ve thought she were kidding if not the dejected look she wore on her face as she browsed the contents of her book.

“Seduce me?”

“Mhm.”

He was silent a moment. “Hn...” He grunted, thoughtful, but then a thought came to mind. “Why are you....why am I suddenly something worth being ‘seduced’?”

Hinata removed her hand from under her chin, to turn a page in her book. “I do recall saying sometime ago...I’m into, well how you put it: ‘old shit’. But really, I’m just an antiques dealer. Things, to me, become more beautiful with time; when they have a nice layer of dust, or wrinkles coating them in life.”

Sasuke faced her from around the counter, looking seriously at her. “Is this you’re way...of calling my wrinkles sexy?”

Hinata shook her head, amused at his ability to make humor of anything. She also wanted to tell him, that he had hardly any wrinkles to look twice at. And also that forty-two, realistically, was somewhat far from old.

But she also watched the way he was watching her, and it was tentative but fond, but not akin to how it used to be. She released a low huff of dismay.

“What a pity,” She started with a sad smile. “You don’t like me anymore.” She said crossing her arms.

She wanted to roll her eyes at the onset of denseness as he looked at her confused. He was getting ready to dispute it, she knew, on the basis that her friendship meant a lot to him, and absolutely nothing meaningful to her in the moment.

Sasuke’s brows pinched. “That’s insane,” he said.

Hinata met his challenge. “Not entirely.”

“No. You’re-” His expression made a weird change she couldn’t pin point before relaxing.

“I more than liked you, Hinata,” he stated making an obvious face, like she were dense. “I didn’t come by because I more than liked you, and thought maybe I should give these emotions to someone else. I mean that didn’t...work, but-” He cleared his throat. “i’m here again. And I still...more than like you.”

A/N: Yeah that ending...will be edited lol, but hope you somewhat enjoyed. Through it all, I honestly enjoyed writing this AU and I absolutely loved exploring those little pieces of art and literature you threw to give the AU some more richness. It was extremely fun to do, and I added some books on my to-read list lol, anyway it’s super late but Happy Holidays ! @fher43

#sasuhina #shss2018 #the characterization: off #especially with Sasuke #idk its not as good as it could've been but i just felt bad about not having put it out yet ://#I'm probably coming back to edit for sure #bc this was such a cute concept

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ixiethepixiewrites · 6 years

Text

Synesthesia

Rating: G

Warnings: Some existential shit in the beginning, no real warnings, pre-relationship usukus

Summary: The colors had left him, so what would it take to bring them back? Rockstar AU

A/N: I was reading an interview with the lead singer of Panic! At The Disco and his words really resonated with me and pushed this out of my brain shjbjdhsj it started as just me writing my feelings but turned into a fic. Hope you enjoy. A little piece of my soul is in this one.

Colors, words, shapes. Alfred could see them all, and it was beautiful. When a song ended and changed to the next track, new colors appeared, the shapes melted into other forms, and words twisted to become something entirely different. That was how he had always seen the world when he listened to his favorite bands, when he wrote songs on napkins at coffee shops, or when he rode on a bus with headphones in. The music always took him somewhere new, a burst of colors that followed him wherever he went. When he had tried to explain this to his friends, they had looked at him like he was crazy, and he had to laugh it off. Pretending it was a joke hurt him, his insides twisting uncomfortably. No one would be able to understand.

Those long years in high school had turned his colors gray, the shapes vanished, and words no longer came to him. He’d lost all interest in his music, choosing to focus on things that his friends would like better. His guitar sat in his closet, untouched. The drum set he used to bang on? In the garage, gathering dust. Every year, the colors faded even more, and had all but vanished by the time he was graduated. Life had become a chore, nothing brought that same feeling back to him, but at least his friends and family were satisfied. His parents were proud of him for giving up his dreams and going for the dreams they’d picked for him. His friends enjoyed the sports they played together, urging him to play professionally. Naturally, he did as he was told, but all the joy on his face had become fake. His smile was forced, the laughs were hollow, yet no one seemed to notice.

Laying in bed, watching the ceiling fan rotate slowly, Alfred reflected on his life. What was good about it? Others would say he had it all, but was that really true? Did he really have it all if it all felt so empty? The tears started small at first, but as the weeks turned to months, more came out, spilling forth in tidal waves of blue. He wrote the first song in years, a testament to the pain that stabbed at his heart, gut wrenching feelings that awoke within him after so many years of being crushed and put to the side. He tore that paper in half, leaving it in the bottom of his closet with the other remnants of his old joys. It was too painful to look at them anymore, to see that reminder of happier times, when his joy had been real.

TV flickering to life at his command, he numbly watched the news, wanting noise to drown out the words in his mind. Oh but it never worked, they would always be there to haunt him when he went to sleep, stealing the rest from his body and leaving him drained by the time he had to wake up in the morning. The weather rolled by in a blur before something caught his eye. A man in a torn up punk rock style shirt who was flipping off the cameras. Arthur Kirkland, the name scrolled along the bottom of the newscast. Then a miracle happened.

Music played on the TV, video of this man’s concert, and something caught in the corner of Alfred’s vision. There was another flash to the side, and he’d seen it for sure that time! It had been green, he was sure of it! The video clip ended and he desperately waited, hoping that the music would play again, or perhaps the name of the band would be shown. When he had no such luck, Alfred turned to the internet, the saviour of his ignorance. Typing in the name Arthur Kirkland had led to a plethora of interview pages, but one particular name stood out. “Black Rose Tea...”

The name echoed in Alfred’s mind as he typed it into a video site, praying for results to show up. Blessedly, the band did pop up, album after album showing under the search results. He chose a song at random, listening to it while he lay on his bed. The colors graced him with their presence, shapes and words joining in and nearly making him cry from the feelings they evoked. He’d found them again, after so many years, his words and colored shapes had returned to him. The feelings within him were overwhelming, but he just kept playing songs, listening to each and every album, desperate to get more of that beautiful imagery flowing before his eyes. At around four in the morning, he ran out of songs to listen to, but that didn’t matter anymore. He had what he needed, and he was ready to give up everything he had to keep a hold of it.

The weeks rolled by as normal, but he now saw the world in a different light. Everything seemed brighter, happier, or maybe that was just him? The colors radiated so strongly, music filling his very soul and making his smiles feel less and less empty. When the news was announced that Black Rose Tea was coming on tour in the USA, Alfred had stayed up for 48 hours straight just to buy VIP tickets for the venue closest to him. He spent all the days before the concert preparing, unable to hold back his excitement, no matter how many odd looks he got from teammates and friends alike.

The night of the show, he was eagerly bouncing on his heels backstage, ready to see the band walk by and to their dressing rooms. What he saw soon after nearly broke his heart. The drummer of the band had walked out, leaving a fuming Arthur and a shell shocked Kiku Honda behind. Did they have a backup? From the looks they were giving each other, and their hushed tones, he figured that it was a no. Biting his lip, Alfred glanced warily at the large bodyguards, before he inched closer to the rope that kept the fans back. When he figured he was close enough, he realized he had no way to get their attention. That was when he remembered what he had brought for Arthur to sign.

Hurriedly, he pulled out the sheet of paper, the one that had the song of his sorrows on it, then scribbled a message on the back and balled it up. With a quick prayer to any diety that would listen, he threw the paper, hitting the singer on the back of the head. Surprised by the sudden hit, Alfred could soon see the glare he received from the rocker. Thankfully, the band’s other member, Kiku, had chosen to pick the paper up and unfolded it carefully. In black ink, the note read: ‘If you need a temporary drummer, I know how to play all your songs.’

Arthur took the note and read it, then he eyed Alfred warily before calling for security to bring him forward, all while the other fans nearby whined. Clearly they had not seen that fight as Alfred had, because they chose instead to complain about the concert being late to start and cutting into their autograph time. Holding up the note, Arthur raised an eyebrow at Alfred skeptically.

“Do you really know them all? Even the most recent release? It’s only been out for a month--”

Alfred nodded his head quickly. “If you give me sticks, I can prove it. I just... I just wanna help. I saw what happened right here and I know all these guys will definitely be upset if you had to cancel just because Francis is being a drama queen.”

That comment earned a snort from Arthur, who was now smirking. “I like you already. Follow me, we’ll see if you have what it takes to handle this job for one night. Can you sing?”

“Uh, I mean, I’m nowhere near as awesome as you, but I think-”

“Flattery gets you nowhere kid, can you sing?”

Alfred felt his cheeks redden in embarrassment. “Dude, you’re only a year and a half older than me, I’m not a kid... and yeah, I can sing.”

As they stepped into a closed off rehearsal room, Kiku politely handed the paper back to Alfred. “You write well. Is this a song?”

“A songwriter, hm?” Arthur snatched the paper before Alfred could, and read it over.

That was it, Alfred’s life was complete, Arthur Kirkland was actually reading his song, oh sweet jeebus have mercy was it hot in here? Face as red as Kiku’s base, Alfred couldn’t help but fiddle with his jacket sleeves. What would Arthur think of his music? Surely it would look amateurish compared to any real singer, but Alfred figured that it at least had feelings to it.

When he was done reading, Arthur’s eyes met Alfred’s, a startling green staring at his own blue with surprise. The words that left his lips caught Alfred off guard.

“You see them too?”

That very same green that filled Alfred’s soul with every song of Arthur’s he’d listened to, it was in his eyes right now. The world had come to a stand still, and Alfred could only numbly nod his head in affirmation. Yes, he did see them, he had for the longest time. “Your music brought them back to me. My whole world had lost color, but when i heard you, I- I could see again.”

A small, genuine smile was the response, and Alfred swore his heart had stopped in that very moment. Those beautiful eyes stared into his own and he felt a whole new type of color flow through him. It was one of the most glorious feelings Alfred had ever been lucky enough to experience. It may have been only infatuation, but it was a start.

“Come on, lad, we have a concert to perform. What’s your name?”

“Ah-uh, Alfred Jones.”

“Alfred, hm? Welcome to the band.”

Arthur handed the paper back after writing something on the top. It was a single word, one that Alfred had never heard before, and yet he knew what it meant already. A word for the things he saw when he was in the music, feeling it, breathing it, living it. Loving it.

Synesthesia.

Synesthesia is a neurological condition in which a person experiences "crossed" responses to stimuli. It occurs when stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway (e.g., hearing) leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (e.g., vision).

#hetalia #usuk #ukus #pre-relationship usukus #band au #rockstar au #human au #ixiewroteathing #ixie wrote a piece of her soul and is still sho o k

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will-work-for-music · 6 years

Photo

* 2017 ALBUMS OF THE YEAR

two thousand + seventeen birthed fantastic records that found me like friends, over + over again. these masterpieces lead me to people + experiences on adventures far better than i could have dreamed. these collections songs kept me company through the highest highs, the lowest lows + the walking in between of this year marked by hardship + madness, for most of the world. these are the tunes i smiled + screamed + cried + danced to the most, this year. i’m wildly grateful for each artist + the remarkable melody-wrapped memories they’ve gifted me. here’s to the songs that stay. 🖤

loved in no particular order:

* LOVELY LITTLE LONELY - the maine

brilliant + poetic + free. this band has been liberating me since i was seventeen. before lovely little lonely was even born i jumped at the chance to celebrate 10 years of this band of brothers who’ve grown up alongside their family of fans. to truly live the lyric: “let’s fall back in love with the world + who we are + do the things we talked about but never did before..” i’m grateful to the maine for adventures i only ever dreamed + for the soundtrack to them all.. she’s a masterpiece.

* THE SEARCH FOR EVERYTHING - john mayer

“And that ends an era. August ‘14-April ’17. I made this record for *you*. May you hear and see and feel yourself in these songs.” 🌊♥️🌊 - @johnmayer

she’s stunning from beginning to end.. i kept telling everyone this show felt like experiencing a film.. it’s surely safe to say JM has made another stellar, artistic set of songs for the soundtrack of my life. wow, wow, wow.. as he kept saying to us, “thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“[On The search for everything, Mayer] succeeds because he’s not donning a new costume: instead, he’s settling into a groove he can claim as his own, and it feels like he’s at home.” - AllMusic

* HARRY STYLES - harry styles

(on album release day) every once in awhile, a record comes along that surprises you in a great way. as i put it to my best friend, [on release day].. “oops, i think i like harry’s album.” THE cameron crowe recently wrote a truly stunning, intriguing rolling stone cover story with styles as the subject.. (the cover that my mom thought featured “a young mick jagger,” without a clue about the previous week’s SNL sketch, ha). as someone who was never into one direction (sorry, rob sheffield), i likely wouldn’t have given this album a shot, but it’s everything you wouldn’t expect to hear in a “former pop star” solo record. thanks to two of my favorite writers (rob sheffield, who penned the RS review like only he can, + crowe) for encouraging me to see harry for more than the kid from the boy band.. as crowe put it (on the RS music now podcast), “he’s a music geek, in the best way..” his love of classic rock shines through, while still capturing a sound all his own. well done, HS. “from the dining table” + “two ghosts” are early favorites.. which i chose just before ryan adams tweeted it.

Rolling Stone’s Rob Sheffield put HS at number 3 on his 2017 album list: “What a revelation to see Styles live the same week as Paul McCartney – a tutorial on the connection between joy and brilliance. So is this album. The songs are built to last, standing up to months of ridiculously heavy listening. The only rock star who can come on like Macca and Mick at the same time. The only rock star who could earn all six minutes of "Sign of the Times.” The only rock star using his hard-won artistic freedom to craft the kind of hilariously anti-commercial old-school personal statement where every song counts, making big guitar moves everybody else this year was too timid to try. The only rock star who thinks cigarettes in New York are “cheap.” The only rock star.“

* PRISONER - ryan adams

"i think ‘prisoner’ has so much more hope + sensuality in it—to me, it’s liberating. those songs are more a celebration of becoming something as it’s broken apart.”

a note to ryan, as tour came to a close:

i feel the most alive inside of these songs.. the ones that break me open + somehow heal me, all at once. RA, i know this time out on the road stole your health + your joy, at times, but the wonder with which you kept playing was magic to witness. i’m grateful for your pursuit of growth + grace, no matter what comes your way. be it bronchitis, haters or heartbreak, you never let anything keep you down. thank you for not one, but two flawless dates in two sparkling cities on the prisoner tour. rest up + stay weird.. xo

* ONLY THE LONELY - colony house

just shy of two weeks into 2017, franklin, tennessee born + bred band of brothers colony house released a creative, impactful collection of songs for the soul. the rocknroll band’s strong sophomore effort landed them spots in the year’s finest festivals across the country (homegrown pilgrimage fest, chicago’s lollapalooza, new orleans’ voodoo experience). it will be exciting to see where these driving, honest story songs take them in the coming year.

* WONDERFUL WONDERFUL - the killers

the fifth studio album from brandon flowers + co has been called their strongest in over a decade. the frontman said the lead single, “the man,” was written through the lens of what his 20-something self thought it was to be a man..“being tough + bringing home the bacon, when really it’s about being compassionate + empathetic.”

For NME, Flowers shared that the lyrics of the album are “the most personal and bare” that he has ever been: “I’m looking in the mirror on this record and focusing a lot on my own personal experiences. Instead of just drawing upon all these experiences and maybe using them in other songs, I am going straight for it with this and singing about my life and my family and that’s something different for me.” The track “Rut” was inspired by the struggle of Flowers’ wife Tana with PTSD. He said: “Usually I feel protective of her but I decided to take it head on. So 'Rut’ is about her submitting to it. That doesn’t mean that she’s gonna let it beat her, but rather that she’s gonna finally acknowledge that it’s there and promise to break this cycle.” Flowers also added that putting his wife’s battle into a song helped him understand better what she is going through. “Have All the Songs Been Written?” was originally the subject line of an email Brandon Flowers sent to Bono, in the midst of a bout of writer’s block, before the latter suggested it would make an excellent song title.“

'wonderful wonderful’ is altogether driving + poignant + strong, intricately crafted for the artist + his listener.

* METAPHYSICAL - the technicolors

as soon as i experienced the technicolors–friends/labelmates/co-creators of the maine–live, i knew they would be in my life from that day forward. it seemed previous projects couldn’t quite capture the passion + enthusiasm of that short set, so 2017’s "metaphysical” was highly anticipated by many.

the title’s defined as “relating to the transcendent or to a reality beyond what is perceptible to the senses. beyond ordinary experience.” the aptly named project evokes a raw, ethereal energy that draws outside the lines, while remaining true to a rock solid focus. “sweat,” “imposter!” + “congratulations you’re a doll” would be welcome additions to any playlist, however it’s recommended listeners follow the sparkling sonic story from start to finish.

* CONCRETE + GOLD - foo fighters the ninth record from foo fighters is born + it is a freaking force. dave says it’s motörhead meets sgt. pepper’s. i sure do dig the super crunchy guitars + layered vocal melodies. paul mccartney plays drums + justin timberlake sings bgvs, just cause he wanted to + it makes me the happiest human.

“I feel an earthquake coming on,” Dave Grohl sings on “Dirty Water,” a moment of fragile guitar poetry from Foo Fighters’ ninth album. Of course, keeping things steady amid chaos has been one of Grohl’s signature themes since the Foos were born from the wreckage of Nirvana a couple of forevers ago. Musically and emotionally, Concrete and Gold is their most balanced record yet – from stadium-punk dive bombers like “Run” and “La Dee Da” to the acoustic soul that opens “T-Shirt,” in which Grohl gets his Nina Simone on, singing, “I don’t wanna be king/I just wanna sing a love song.” “Sunday Rain” is a guitar weeper so late-Beatles great it even has Paul McCartney playing drums on it.

Adele co-writer Greg Kurstin’s production adds big-studio texture without diluting the band’s raw tumult; even Justin Timberlake’s appearance – as a backing vocalist on the space-truckin’ “Make It Right” – is subtle rather than ostentatious. The highlight is “The Sky Is a Neighborhood,” a hulking dream-metal anthem: “Trouble to the right and left,” Grohl sings, driving into the darkness with a Bic lighter raised to the heavens.“ - Rolling Stone

* HALLOWEEN - ruston kelly

ruston kelly captured me, years ago, with the single release of his flawlessly raw, haunting "black magic.” ever since, like a ghost itself, the song was never far from me.

Rolling Stone writes, “Black Magic” is a crescendoing rocker that ponders the bewitching pull of romance –and how it can easily disappear in a cloud of smoke.“

"Kelly is just as adept at making catchy country grooves – Tim McGraw and Josh Abbott Band have cut his tracks –as he is capturing life’s darkest, most introspective moments. The songwriter’s debut EP, the Mike Mogis-produced Halloween, is a solemn meditation on the inevitable end of things, and the spirits that tend to haunt us. Kelly came to Tennessee as a last-minute decision after attending high school in Belgium (he jokes that his father might have been a spy). Once he landed in town, he held tenure in the jam band Elmwood and battled addiction, writing songs on Music Row while exploring his demons on Halloween and his forthcoming full-length. Current single "Black Magic” shows a powerful grasp on storytelling gleaned from his love of the Carter Family and Townes Van Zandt, but also a more ragged rock & roll soul: it’s Americana, if your Americana is Bruce Springsteen with an acoustic guitar, sung by someone who spins a little heavy metal too. “Sometimes I wear both a cowboy hat and a Slayer T-shirt, just to throw people off,” Kelly says.“

* REPUTATION - taylor swift

"hold on to the memories, they will hold on to you” at her core, i still believe taylor to be the fiercely strong, quietly brilliant songwriter she’s always been. the power of the song comes through when you strip it down + it still shines just as bright. thank you for making music that meets me where i am + takes me away, since that very first day, at fifteen (2006). thank you for this one + for playing it for jimmy fallon + his momma (go watch that performance + weep!) i look forward to growing into this record as i have the five that came before.. i’ve never doubted her prowess as a storyteller.. + i won’t start now.

see also: Rob Sheffield’s glorious write up. i wholeheartedly agree. https://www.rollingstone.com/music/albumreviews/taylor-swift-reputation-sheffield-review-most-intimate-lp-w511359

rob is my favorite RS writer/author on all-things music. from his books on life through the lens of pop music–bowie, beatles + duran duran songs, respectively, i wouldn’t trust anyone else’s TS review. he articulately captures how i feel, as a fan from album one.. i look forward to better understanding 'reputation’ with each spin, though i can’t help but miss the classic introspective ballads.

* DIVIDE - ed sheeran

a fantastically diverse record. once again, sheeran proves he can break all of the boundaries + stay true to himself as an artist. he does it all so well, without appearing to care what anyone else thinks. “dive” is a bold, beautiful statement i continue to come back to + feel just the same. the record punches + dances in all the right places, from beginning to end, begging to be played on repeat.

* LIFE CHANGES - thomas rhett

thomas rhett gifted us the quintessential road trip singalong soundtrack record of the year. the day after it was born was spent on a bus from chicago to nashville, so when it wasn’t playing through my earbuds, it was spinning on repeat in my mind. the title track still stands out clear + strong, though i thoroughly enjoyed a live taste of the addictive early maren morris duet–“craving you”–back in february on the hometeam tour. it’s no wonder his career has catapulted with his seamless versatility in blending country’s storytelling with pop music’s neverending ear candy likeablity. this record excellently showcases rhett’s range from anthemic radio jams to heartbreaker ballads and true-to-life tales in between.

* FROM A ROOM (vol 1 + 2) - chris stapleton

stapleton released music this year in two parts, dubbing them “from A room” volumes 1 + 2–not just any room, “'A’ room” being nashville’s historic RCA studio A. some songs included in the collection were written up to a decade ago; ones chosen as they still ring true to the bearded, believable-as-they-come singer/songwriter.

on the authenticity of his craft, stapleton says, “I can’t really speak to why people like what we do. Hopefully, they know what we do is authentically us, and that goes over no matter what kind of music you’re playing. People will kind of hear that and connect with that in ways they wouldn’t if you were trying to be something that you think might be popular; I think that’s always a mistake in music, maybe even in life. Do something 'cause it’s in your heart, do something 'cause it’s what you’re supposed to be doing.”

“broken halos” + “second one to know” will, to me, always conjure up memories of seeing him open for tom petty and the heartbreakers at wrigley field, on their 40th anniversary tour, this summer. music is medicine and these honest-to-the-bone tunes are instant classics as well as a balm for the soul.

* FIRST CIGARETTE - travis meadows

“we rise. we climb. we shine like broken stars.”

the above is perhaps the defining statement of next-level nashville singer/songwriter, travis meadows’ 2017 studio album, 'first cigarette.’ the veteran of a different kind of war, there’s not much meadows hasn’t faced in life–cancer, heartbreak, addiction, depression.. and no story is off-limits for the wonderfully raw-voiced, honest-as-they-come artist. each song stays true to travis’ heart, some a little more uncomfortably authentic than accessible (ie radio-friendly), but that’s the way meadows prefers his craft.

“underdogs,” “pontiac,” “hungry,” + “better boat” stand out from first listen, yet each track was chosen to land where they do in the lineup + in the heart of the listener.

Rolling Stone writes, “To his most ardent fans and peers, including Eric Church, Dierks Bentley and Jake Owen, who have all cut Meadows’ songs for their respective albums, his open-book approach to his craft is his greatest gift. But Meadows lives in fear of rejection. That ever-lingering sense of distrust remains…

[On having label support backing a project for the first time]:

"It validates all of the suffering that I went through to get here,” Meadows says. “It gives it purpose.”

“I try not to be too hard on myself,” Meadows continues, “but I don’t deserve any of this. So I’m grateful for every inch I get walking that mile.”

* STEEL TOWN - steve moakler

steel town had only been out for nine days + i’d woken up with these songs in my head, every morning. i’m partial to “wheels” + “gold” + “summer without her” (co-written with + ft. my favorite-for-so-long, sarah buxton!!) + the title track, but i cannot pick a favorite, friends. the long wait from 'wide open’ to this one was oh-so-worth it. thanks for another heartfelt record filled with story songs i can spin for years + years to come. seriously, don’t sleep on this love letter to a historically hardworking hometown.

* BRETT ELDREDGE - brett eldredge

“Brett Eldredge’s self-titled third album is the Number One country album this week. The Illinois native also scored the highest all-genre chart position of his career, landing at Number Two on the Billboard 200, behind Kendrick Lamar’s LP Damn.” - Rolling Stone (August 15)

eldredge is both effortless + earnest, perfectly showcasing his ability + personality on the record he calls, “the most [himself].” from the playful first single, “somethin’ i’m good at” to the heartfelt vulnerability of “castaway,” listeners experience all-sides of the equal parts smooth sinatra, fun-loving country crooner. the standouts are story songs–“the long way” is dreamlike while “no stopping you” is wistful–both shine brilliantly on studio LP number three.

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vlindervin7 · 7 years

Text

Because Adam Parrish’s bisexuality is very important to me and I felt the need to write down the Feelings I was having. This has no plot, just so you know.

AO3

It’s really you on my mind

He’s fifteen years old and tired. Sitting in front of the trailer he calls home, he lets himself feel it for just a second. Allows himself to acknowledge the heaviness pulling at his limbs, his drooping eyelids getting pulled down by some invisible power; allows himself a moment of anger and exhaustion. Feeling sorry for himself and letting his misery take over his senses isn’t something he necessarily likes to do. He knows his life sucks, there’s no use dwelling on that. He also knows there are people who have it worse and that he will get out of here. One day one day one day. It’s a song that replays itself inside his head when things get rough, when he feels alone and his father tells him he’s worthless, with his fists and words alike, when his mom looks at it all with pursed lips or ignores it altogether. When the trailer park is suffocating and the dust invades his lungs, makes it hard to breathe. Sometimes doubt creeps in and then it’s almost impossible for him to believe it will ever happen; he’ll be stuck here for the rest of his days, become a copy of Robert Parrish because it’s his fate, it’s in his blood and he’ll have a son sitting in the exact same position, singing to himself one day one day one day.

Snapping out of that depressing train of thought, he suddenly remembers the free magazine he picked up at the grocery store earlier. From the rack next to the entry, filled with daily news and picked up by the busy fingers of housewives and old people taking their weekly stroll. He’s passed it numerous times and never felt the need to take one with him, until today. He doesn’t know what came over him, just that he desperately wanted to pretend to do something normal. And why not?

He takes it out now, from under his thin jacket, unfolds it and looks at the picture of some actress he vaguely recognizes posing on the front.

It’s been so long since he read something just for him. He used to go the library when he was younger, used to spend full days there, befriending the old, sweet lady behind the desk, reading everything he could get his hands on. But when he realized there’s a way to escape this, that the world is so much wider than the name double-wide suggest, that maybe there’s a way for him to not only read about magical places and people going on adventures, but actually live those things and see them for himself, the library turned into the last item on his list of things to do. He picked up several jobs and poured all his remaining time and energy into studying and getting A’s; the library was forgotten. At times, when the night is too heavy to sleep and the walls are too thin to not hear what’s playing in the bedroom next to his, he thinks of the old lady with her white hair that gave him pieces of her chocolate sometimes and wonders what happened to her. If she still works there, if maybe at times she wonders about him too after he abruptly stopped coming, if she’s even still alive.

Now he opens his magazine and pictures the one his father reads and notices the stark difference between the two. He rifles through it, not particularly caring about the content or finding it exceptionally captivating, but enjoying himself nonetheless. Skimming through it, he abruptly lets it fall open on some ad, perfume he thinks, featuring a man, a car and the gray sky above. The man is leaning against his expensive, fast car, wearing expensive designer clothes. Adam’s enthralled by how casually powerful the man looks and by the quiet authority he radiates. Like nothing can hurt him, like he’s above pain. At first, it’s just the power that evokes Adam’s wonder, then he pays closer attention to the guy’s face; zooms in on his high cheekbones, the strand of dark hair falling on his forehead, his pronounced jawline. The way his clothes fit him just right, accentuating the right things, the right way and Adam is in awe.

There’s a mixture of several things going through Adam’s head, the most prominent being want. Which he shuts down immediately without realizing why and replaces with one day one day one day. He looks at the car again. Without giving it second thought, he rips the picture from the magazine and folds it carefully, stuffs it into his pocket.

The picture is burned in his memory now and he thinks he’ll use it as motivation, to try to become that person one day. Because that’s what he wants. That’s the want overpowering his thoughts. Being that man, radiating the same power, being able to dress like that, owning a car like that and doing it all as effortlessly as if he’d been born into it.

He takes it out sometimes, from under his mattress. He’s not sure why he feels the need to hide it like that, it’s not like there’s something bad on there. He just doesn’t want his dad to find it and realize that Adam wants to be that man, he tells himself. He doesn’t want his parents to know that that is his goal in life, he tells himself. And he tries not to think of the why’s to much. Why he decided on that picture, why he hides it, why it makes him want.

Years later he’ll realize that maybe it wasn’t just the power the man radiated and the effortless way he looked like money and success and was everything Adam wanted to be but wasn’t. He’ll think that maybe it was a mixture of those things, combined with the fact that he was extremely attracted to the guy, but just didn’t realize it. That the want to be him, could’ve easily also been the want to be with him among other things. He’ll think that there have been so many more instances in his life where he interpreted his own feelings wrong, or simply repressed them and twisted them so that he didn’t have to face the real thing. Subconsciously of course, until Ronan started looking at him and the pieces all fell in their place and he realized something about himself that had been there for a long time, but was never allowed out.

When he gets together with Ronan, he analyzes the feelings he had for Blue and he realizes they were just as real as the one he has for Ronan. Maybe they weren’t as strong, but they were there. And something clicks inside him, because he knows now that Ronan wasn’t the first boy he was ever attracted to, which is what he thought in the beginning, and he knows that he’s still very much into girls too, but that it’s all fine. He’s got time to find himself and figure out what that means for him. Which he does in great detail. Adam Parrish, a man of science, likes to understand things, approaches this objectively, eyes on his goal.

He doesn’t doubt his attraction or love for Ronan because he is absolutely sure that those things are there. He does not doubt his feelings for Ronan once. He just wonders whether he’s the only boy he’s ever liked or if there were others.

When he was younger, he didn’t give his sexuality much thought. He always thought he was straight so there was no real reason to think about it and anyway, living under his parents’ roof, the possibility of being something else than straight, stepping out of line of what his dad thought was right, wasn’t much of an option. He liked Blue, he had a girlfriend before that, when he was fourteen. She gave him his first kiss, but other than that it wasn’t anything exceptional. She was a girl from his school he had to work with one day. She was pretty and she smelled nice. She had a gap between her teeth and he remembers finding that charming. They worked on the chemistry project in the library, she kissed him one day, he liked it, she asked him to be her girlfriend and eventually she broke it off, no doubt expecting dates and time spent together, but Adam simply did not have the money or time to spare. He didn’t like her that much that it really hurt or anything, but it stung a little. Knowing dating just wasn’t for him, yet another thing on his seemingly endless list of one day, something he’d do when he got out of here.

If he was being honest with himself, he was a little disappointed. It’s not like he expected butterflies to fly around and the sun to start shining just for them, but the couple kisses they shared didn’t really do anything to him. That didn’t stop him from wanting more of them, though. Her lips were soft and brought him affection he had missed his whole life. The feeling of her hands on his hips warmed his skin in a way he was not familiar with, so even if real feelings were missing, he also definitely didn’t want her to break up with him .

He figured it was better anyway. He put her out of his head and forget about her quickly enough, only sometimes allowing her to open the doors in his mind and wondering that if he could’ve been able to show her a little more attention, she’d have stayed longer.

Then he met Blue and he really liked her too. Her originality and fire drew him in and did things to his head. It was easier with her somehow because he saw her in the company of Gansey, because she was pretty affectionate herself and wasn’t afraid to say what she thought or let him know what she wanted or didn’t want. She took his hand and it was easy to lay his head in her lap. It was nice and he knew that if he were to kiss her, it’d be different than the kisses he shared with his former girlfriend. He thought maybe he’d feel something else than simply that’s nice.

It was good. While it lasted.

Because of course it didn’t last. He was Adam Parrish, why would he be able to love someone the right way? Maybe love was a big word, but why would he be able to – to be enough? Because that was exactly what it was. He was not enough.

The words it’s not going to be you echoed through his mind for days on end and the fear that he would end up exactly like his father encased him, held him captive. When those words came out of her mouth, he knew. He just knew that if it wasn’t him, it’d be Gansey. Because of course. Of fucking course.

When he gets together with Ronan, everything is great and his anger doesn’t matter because Ronan has his own anger inside to match Adam’s. They get together and every touch, every word shared between them leaves a trace in his skin, strikes a match until his insides are burning with want and need and love. Finally he can feed his hunger. Ronan doesn’t mind if Adam kisses him fiercely, barely giving him space to breathe, all but attacks his mouth with his own. He doesn’t mind Adam taking of his shirt and tracing the warm skin, following the trail of his tattoo with his mouth. Doesn’t mind the hickies on his neck, the scratches on his back.

The physical aspects of the relationship is explosive and wonderful. But that’s not all. Ronan is the first person to ever be truly gentle with him, the first person that looks at him as if he deserves everything.

He makes Adam laugh harder than anything ever has, sometimes so much he literally cannot breathe, until he has tears in his eyes. Ronan knows when to crack a joke, make fun of Gansey, draw out a grin with force if he has to after a shitty day at work. But also knows when to leave it alone and simply let Adam lay his head on his lap on the couch and gently run his fingers through his hair when he’s feeling down. Because the truth is, while Adam Parrish has always thought of himself as unknowable, somehow Ronan Lynch has managed to know him.

He knows him. He understands him. Like no one ever has. And Adam realizes that, even if he didn’t notice before, he had always understood Ronan the same way. Back when he couldn’t stand being in the same room with him for more than five minutes before one of them made a biting remark. Even then, they’d understood each other on some level.

So, no. If there is one thing in the world he is absolutely sure of, it’s his love for Ronan. While figuring out his sexuality is definitely confusing, that is not. It’s the surest and realist thing in his life at the moment.

Once, when Adam was about ten, he had a friend. Called Jason. The boy had curly black hair, dark skin and piercing brown eyes that glittered in the sun and made Adam feel warm and fuzzy inside. It was the first real friend he’d ever had, or as real as fleeting friendship at that age can be anyway and Adam cared for him deeply. When Jason smiled, he had a dimple and for some reason having it directed at him, filled Adam with an indescribable pride. There was something about him that made Adam want to be around him as much as possible and never let go. Seen as Jason was his first friend, he didn’t think much of it and figured that’s just what friendship was.

The whole thing was over pretty quickly, Jason moved away. Adam is pretty sure he never even knew his last name.

When he thinks back to that now, he wonders if it wasn’t something other than just friendship. And then he thinks back to the first time Gansey had laid his charming eyes on him and shown Adam his electric smile and the feeling that had evoked inside him and wow. That’s a whole other realization.

Now lying on his small mattress above the church that’s his home, next to the boy he thinks of when he thinks of home, he wonders how he never noticed what really, was there all along. He thinks it’s probably a mixture of wanting to survive and homophobic bullshit shoved in his head by the people that raised him.

Now, lying on his small mattress above the church that’s his home, next to the boy he thinks of when he thinks of home, he lets himself feel and think and understand something about himself.

‘Why the fuck are you thinking this hard? It’s two in the morning’, Ronan mumbles into the crook of his shoulder, sleep already pulling at his senses, one hand wrapped around Adam’s waist.

‘I’m not.’ It’s a lie, automatically leaving his mouth. Adam spends his life thinking too hard, over analyzing every little thing. He’s never had to share the inner workings of his mind with anyone.

‘Yes, you are. You’ve got that little crunch between your eyebrows. That means you’re thinking too hard.’ But this is Ronan and, again, Adam is taken aback by how good Ronan knows him. The inner workings of his mind may be a mystery to most people, but Ronan has never been like most people.

He doesn’t say anything for a little while, lets the silence fill the room. Ronan kisses his shoulder and Adam can feel his eyelashes fluttering against his skin. Soft as a confession whispered in the dead of the night.

‘I’m bisexual’, he says then, finally, shattering the quiet.

And it’s out there. The nervous flutter in his stomach has nothing to do with fear or dread. He feels most comfortable around Ronan and this is nothing new really. It’s just that it’s the first time he’s ever said those words aloud, the first time he knows with a certainty they’re real. And that sensation is new to him, it flutters in his stomach, but a good kind of fluttering. One that’s as pleasant as the spring sun warming his skin after winter has gone to sleep.

Ronan makes a noise that could be interpreted in many different ways, but the way he pulls Adam closer to him and nuzzles his nose to his temple and drops a kiss on his ear, indicates it’s most likely one of encouragement and support. The gesture fills Adam’s body with warmth and his heart beats with the incredible love he has for this boy.

‘What brought this on?’

‘I don’t know. Just thinking back on my life. I have this ad in my car, for perfume or something. And I always convinced myself I kept it because one day I wanted to be the guy. But now I think I kept it because I was ridiculously attracted to him even though I didn’t realize it.’

Ronan lets out a small laugh. ‘Well, I’m fucking gay. I think I always sort of knew though.’

Adam wonders if Ronan has ever admitted to that before and he’s pretty sure he never has. He simply got together with Adam and that was enough for them. But here, in the safety and comfort of this room and each other, it’s okay.

He thinks of how Ronan used to hate himself so much and that, some of it at least, was tied to his sexuality. How he used to be so angry and scared and hidden from everyone. How self acceptance was a long and painful process for him. He thinks of how proud he is of Ronan, of how strong he is and of how far he’s come. To say those words without shame above the church he visits every Sunday. The church where he belongs but for a long time felt like an intruder, like he was wrong.

Ronan shouldn’t have to give up parts of himself because others won’t accept him. He shouldn’t have to hide. He’s gay, but he also believe in god with an intensity that Adam saw reflected in his eyes the few times he has accompanied him to church.

Adam himself is not religious, but he respects it and can see the beauty of it in certain things. But more importantly, he’s aware of how deeply rooted it is in Ronan’s life and how it’s a part of him. Adam loves all parts of Ronan, wants him to be able to love all parts of himself too. He’s glad Ronan feels comfortable enough saying those words above his church.

‘I’m glad you finally figured it out. ‘M proud of you,’ Ronan mumbles then, almost asleep, saying things he maybe wouldn’t have said wide awake, but that Adam would’ve gotten anyway.

Adam plants a kiss on the top of his head and closes his head. ‘I’m proud of you too.’

And that’s how they fall asleep, entwined like vines and trusting someone, finally, to accept them for who they are.

They’re growing still. And discovering themselves, but now that they’re safe and relatively happy, most of the time, it’s a process Adam actually is kind of looking forward to. Maybe he doesn’t have to be unknowable. Maybe he can just be Adam Parrish, loved by his friends and boyfriend, safe, attending Harvard in the fall, bisexual, in love and proud. Of who he is.

Proud of being Adam Parrish. He decides he rather likes that thought.

Thanks for reading! Title from Chanel by Frank Ocean, because that song is almost as Bi™ as Adam Parrish is

#pynch #adam parrish #ronan lynch #hella bi adam is one of my favorite adam parrishes #i love this boy so much can you belive #i wrote this on his birthday just so you know #you can pretend it's still the 3rd of july #i'm a little nervous about posting this because #idk #trc #my writing #two fics in three day whoo #they were both written a while ago i just didn't have the time and energy to edit #also I had no computer when I was visiting my family for more than a week #which was when I wrote this so #someone shUT ME UP

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